Witness
by storyteller0318
Summary: Eighteen years after fleeing Charming, Tara and Jax still struggle with their Wit Sec status as Eric and Elizabeth Morgan. Facing a summer of change, they try to come to terms with their impending empty nest. When an unexpected visitor comes shows up on their doorstep, will they be able to keep their lives intact, or will Charming once again turn everything upside down?
1. Chapter 1

"Tara!" The word ripped Jax Teller's throat raw. His body shivered uncontrollably as his eyes tried to discern darkness from shadows. The nothingness threatened to swallow him whole as he searched for his wife. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. _Slow down,_ he thought to himself. _You know this isn't real._

The nightmare was a familiar one, one he'd had a million times since he and Tara fled Charming. It began with Tara holding his hand. They were walking the streets of Charming again, but in the dream, they were much younger, sixteen or seventeen. Suddenly, a motorcycle would barrel down the street, and its masked rider would grab Tara and speed away. Jax, merely walking, would be unable to stop the kidnapping.

It was then that he wander the darkness, helpless, vulnerable, and terrified, looking for his soulmate again. Sometimes, he'd wander the streets and come across old ghosts. Depending on the night, Opie would visit him and offer him encouragement. Other nights, Clay would berate him and tell him he was worthless. Hell, even Gemma had popped in a couple of times to say how much she missed him, but tonight, like countless other nights, the dream involved him walking alone through the black night alone.

"Babe," Tara's sweet voice coaxed him into semi-consciousness. His body woke before his brain did, and he instinctively pulled her close. "They're arguing again. Can you handle it this time?"

Jax's eyes fluttered open to a bright and way too cheerful North Carolina sun. He quickly snapped them shut again. He pulled Tara even closer. It amazed him at how incredibly soft her skin was, but what amazed him more is that he never grew tired of it. She was still as beautiful as the day he'd met her thirty-five years ago.

His hands crept beneath her too big t-shirt. Slowly, he traced the curves of her body with his fingertips, pleased to feel goosebumps forming beneath them. She giggled and turned towards him. Jax opened his eyes again, astounded by her beauty. At almost fifty-one, his wife was still stunning. He loved the way her hazel eyes now crinkled when she laughed. Her long chocolate brown hair hadn't changed color at all, except for one beautiful snowy white streak on the right side. When it first appeared, she thought of coloring it, but Jax begged her not to.

"I'm getting old," she complained. "Today, it's gray hair; tomorrow it's a fucking nursing home." Jax pulled her close and kissed her then.

"If this is getting old," he whispered against her mouth, "Then I am happy to do it. Don't change a single thing. Please." The white streak remained, and Jax still loved it.

"As much as I'd love to fuck you senseless, our daughters are about to rip one another's faces off," she murmured sleepily. "And it's your turn. I've been dealing with this all week."

"Ugh, fine," Jax grumbled. Before he rolled out of bed, he lazily licked Tara's neck, and she shuddered.

"Glad to know I still turn you on," he joked as he stood. Tara watched as he pulled sweatpants and t-shirt on.

"You could turn a dead woman on," she replied sleepily. Jax chuckled lightly as he walked out the door.

He could hear the raised female voices as he rushed down the hardwood stairs. As he crossed the living room and entered the formal dining room, the commotion grew louder. By the time he entered the kitchen, it was an all-out shouting match.

"I don't care what you have to do, Cait! It's my day for the car! Dad, tell her it's my day!"

"Opie, you know it's your sister's day," Jax began. It still fucked with his head to hear them use the Wit-Sec names. Cait and Laura were too-plain names neither he nor Tara would have chosen. To him, they would always be Ophelia and Delylah. Now eighteen years old, his daughters had gone from sweet, cooing babies to firebrand young women. The boys had been relatively easy, but Opie and Lala, now known to the outside world as Cait and Laura, respectively, had been one helluva ride. Jax always thought their twin connection would make them closer, but really, it simply divided them.

"But Dad, I have work today, and she's just going up to the mountains. Why can't see just bum a ride with her friends? Why does she need the car?" Jax stared his best friend's namesake. Her apricot curls shimmered as the sun poured through the windows. Gemma would have called her a rare bird, as she was the only ginger in the family. She had Tara's fair skin; the only difference was the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Just above those freckles were a pair of huge, heavily lashed gray eyes. Those eyes glared in frustration at her twin, and Jax couldn't help but notice traces of Tara in her stare. She was tall, roughly five-foot-nine, and she ran towards the lean, but she was one stunning girl. The most beautiful part of Opie was that she didn't even see how gorgeous she truly was.

Her twin, on the other hand, knew she was a hot commodity in their tiny, middle-of-nowhere town. Hers was a strange, almost exotic beauty. Her long, rich, chocolate hair fell straight past her shoulders. Like Opie, Lala had ivory skin that unequivocally opposed the sun, but there were no freckles adorning her features. Her pale blue eyes—Jax's eyes—glittered dangerously as she stared at Opie. Jax knew that stare: it was Gemma's half-murderous glare. The thought caused Jax to shudder.

"She has the car because it's her day," Jax reminded his daughter. He moved across the kitchen and quickly began brewing coffee.

"But her stuff isn't even important," Opie countered as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

"It _is_ important," Lala retaliated.

"Whatever," Opie sighed. She didn't have the energy to argue; fighting with Lala was an endless battle; it was a battle she'd always lose too, even when she knew she was right. Lala was a steamroller if there ever was one. "It's always about you, Laura. Always." The words were harsh, but when Jax looked over towards Lala, he could see immediate remorse.

"You need to stop arguing," Jax demanded. "I can't fucking stand it. You're supposed to be sisters."

"Dad, I—" Opie began, but Jax promptly cut her off.

"No, Op," he replied. "You're graduating high school next week. Between Luke's graduation and Adam's wedding, the summer is going to fly by, and then comes September. You're going to Duke, and Lala is going to NYU. You'll be lucky to see one another between breaks. You're going to miss this, and you don't even see it. Before you realize it, you're going to miss fighting over the damned car."

The girls were immediately contrite.

"I can take you to work, Cait," Lala quietly stated. Jax looked over at Opie, and he watched as she softened. He was silently relieved. As fast as they fought, they'd make up just as fast. Maybe that twin connection wasn't as severed as he thought it was. Opie nodded.

"Can you pick me up, Dad?" Opie asked.

"You know I will, Op," Jax softly replied.

"Everything ok?" Tara asked as she entered the room. The smell of coffee wafted through her nose. She wandered over to Jax and tightened the belt of her robe. He kissed her cheek.

"Yeah, it's fine, right girls?" Jax pointedly asked. Both Opie and Lala nodded in unison. Jax kissed Tara's cheek.

"C'mon, Cait" Lala beckoned. "You don't want to be late." With a quick kiss and hug to Jax and Tara, the girls left, shutting the door behind them. Jax and Tara were alone.

"You hungry, babe?" Tara asked. "I can make a quick breakfast before you head off to work."

"Eggs and bacon are fine with me," he responded. Tara wandered over to the fridge. Before she opened the door, her eyes caught the announcements on the fridge.

 _James and Sarah Sinclair  
along Eric and Elizabeth Morgan_

 _happily announce that_

 _their daughter, Hannah Juliana Sinclair,_

 _will join Adam Nicholas Morgan_  
 _in Holy Matrimony_  
 _on the Day of our Lord_

 _July First at seven o'clock in the evening. Reception to follow._

 _Please RSVP no later than May Fifteenth to Sarah Sinclair or Elizabeth Morgan._

After eighteen years gone from Charming, Tara, like Jax, still couldn't quite reconcile the name changes. The fact that Abel was now _Adam_ still threw her for a loop. There were days that she still stumbled for the kids' names as well as her own. At this point, Tara still didn't identify herself as _Elizabeth Morgan_ , nor did she see Jax as _Eric Morgan._ In her mind, she would always be Tara, Jax would always be Jax. Jax was the name she called out when they were making love; Eric was never right.

Just below the wedding announcement was his brother's graduation invitation:

 _The Faculty and Senior Class of  
The University of South Carolina_

 _announce that_

 _Luke Christopher Morgan_

 _is a candidate for the degree of_  
 _Secondary Education_  
 _with a minor in French Language_

 _Commencement Exercises_

 _Sunday, June twenty-second, at three o'clock in the afternoon._

It was going to be a busy summer indeed. Tara didn't know what was more surreal: Abel marrying or Thomas graduating college, the girls graduating from high school, or the fact they would never remember their true birth names. Adam and Luke never rolled off the tongue like Abel and Thomas did. It was one of the things Tara detested about the Witness Protection Program; one of the other things she hated was the fact that she couldn't practice medicine anymore. She missed her true vocation. When they fled Charming, she was shocked to find that they hadn't chosen a career for her. Meanwhile, Jax was given a start-up auto body shop to helm.

In the beginning, Tara stayed at home, content to watch the kids grow, but once the girls hit Kindergarten, she was itching for other things to do. When Jax expressed the need for business manager for his now-booming business, Tara jumped at the opportunity. It wasn't surgery by any means, but it made her feel productive and appreciated. Jax knew how much she missed saving lives, even when she assured him over and over again that she'd gladly pay that price to keep their family together and safe. They were both grateful that Jax's business paid all the bills and then some. She was grateful Jax could be a provider; it was the one thing she'd worried about when they began this life. Still, the irony of it all hadn't escaped her; she was Gemma all over again in that respect.

"You okay, babe?" Jax asked. He crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He planted a sweet, gentle kiss on her neck. Goosebumps emerged and traced down her body.

"It's just gone so fast, Jax," she whispered. "The girls are going to college. Thomas is graduating college…and Abel is getting married. I can't believe it. I just can't fucking believe it."

"I can't either," Jax breathed. "It's crazy to think about it. It's like—Charming was slow motion, and the eighteen years since had been on fast forward." Tara nodded absently. Eggs and bacon forgotten, she turned to face her husband.

"All we've ever wanted is for our kids to be safe and happy," she murmured. Jax kissed planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

"I think we've succeeded," he responded. She nodded as tears filled her eyes. Jax's eyes filled with empathy as he took her in his arms. "Oh Tara…"

"I just don't know what to do without them. They're all leaving me, Jax. What will I do now?"

As his wife broke down, Jax gathered her tightly within his arms. The truth was, he didn't know what to do either. The last eighteen years had been about school and sports and activities and family time, and now, in the blink of an eye, all four children were truly embarking on their own futures. As much as he wanted to keep them by his side, he knew they would have to forge their own paths.

"You have me," Jax said calmly. "For the first time in twenty-three years, we will be alone. No Abel or Thomas, no Delylah or Ophelia. It's sad, yes, but it's also kind of amazing. We will be able to connect with each other, to just hang out together—to just walk around here naked, if we want." Tara giggled through her tears at that statement. Jax laughed in return.

"I mean, we can start now," she smiled. Jax's brows raised, and a lascivious grin spread across his face. His hands quickly pushed the robe open and ran them beneath her flimsy cotton t-shirt. He marveled at her tight body. She'd barely aged over the last eighteen years, and even if she had, it wouldn't have mattered. She grabbed his face and pulled his lips to hers. When his tongue slid against hers, she was lost. Jax fumbled for her legs, and he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist; it was easy, this seductive dance they'd always done.

He carefully backed her against the kitchen wall, and with aching patience, he slid her underwear aside and with one quick motion. She moaned in response, and he yanked his sweatpants down and slid into her.

"I love you, Tara," he savagely groaned as they moved in unison. She smiled down at him. Her fingers twined in his short, blonde hair. She brutally crushed her lips against his, enjoying the kalidescope of emotion and lust that flowed through her. It didn't take long for her to attain her pleasure, and once Jax knew she was satisfied, he allowed himself his own release.

"I love you, Jax," Tara returned, and he smiled once more. Carefully, he let her go. Once her feet touched the floor, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed Jax's neck.

"I don't have time for round two, babe," he joked, only half-serious. She laughed. "We have to get to the shop."

"I know," she whispered. "But you can't be mad at a girl for trying."

"Absolutely not," he responded, kissing her forehead. "But if you promise to be quick, we can always shower together." Tara's eyes lit up.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied. With a wicked glance, she broke from his embrace and headed back through the living room. Jax was hot on her heels. As they hit the stairs, the doorbell rang. Both of them stopped dead in their tracks.

"Who the fuck is that?" he growled.

"I don't know," Tara replied. "Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away?"

The bell rang again, this time it was a quick succession of three rings. They were urgent and uniquely strange. Jax rolled his eyes and turned around to answer the door. Tara followed. She could make out a dark figure through the glass. Her heart pounded against her chest. Something was terribly wrong. She felt it in her bones. The doorbell echoed through their home once more. As Jax swung the door open, her hands visibly shook.

"Holy fucking shit," Jax exhaled. His blue eyes widened as he faced the person in front of him.

"Jackie Boy," the familiar Scottish brogue greeted him. Tara's eyes filled with tears as her past slapped her face, and irony filled Tara's bones. Just moments ago, she was wondering what the hell she was going to do after her babies left the nest. Now, clad in black jeans, a black shirt, and the all-too-familiar Sons of Anarchy kutte, she knew that life was going to take a strange and very dangerous turn. Still, she was elated to see her old friend standing at her door. As Jax pulled the Scot inside, she closed her robe and marveled at Fate's timing. Still, an unsettling thought sank into her as Chibs sat on their living room couch.

 _Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it._


	2. Chapter 2

Chibs Telford was out of his element. His shock of snowy hair and ever-present kutte looked strange against the oversized beige couch. Tara watched him try to get comfortable, but it looked as if his nerves were as exposed and raw as Tara's were. Jax walked into the room with a fresh cup of coffee, and as he placed it front of his old friend, the Scot's dark eyes registered relief. Carefully, he grabbed the oversized mug and sipped it slowly, reveling in the warmth.

Jax sat by Tara on the matching loveseat. Tara could feel her husband trembling, and a wave of sympathy welled up in her chest. She reached out and laced her fingers through his, and he glanced at her with a slight, wary smile. They then turned their eyes towards the living ghost of SAMCRO. Chibs took a breath, set the coffee cup down, and tremulously smiled.

"Thank you, Brother," he shakily warbled as he nodded at the coffee. A hint of cream and sugar lingered on his tongue. Chibs was amazed that Jax still knew that two creams and two sugars made a perfect cup of coffee. _Some things never change._

"You're welcome," Jax returned. Chibs sighed and opened his mouth to speak. Tears filmed over his eyes, and unashamed, he let them fall. _I thought I'd never see you again, Jax._ He felt as though his heart was lodged in his thoat.

"What are you doing here, Chibs?" Tara asked. Chibs jaggedly exhaled. With Tara breaking the silence, Chibs' heartbeat slowed, and a strange sense of calm filled him.

"We're happy to see you, Brother," Jax interjected. "But you know our situation. I hope this isn't a you-just-missed-us kind of thing. As much as we miss you, having you in our house is something we'd never imagined happening." Chibs nodded in complete understanding.

"I wish it were that kinda visit," Chibs quietly stated. He rubbed his hands on his black jeans. It was a nervous gesture. "I wouldna put yer family in danger for my heartbreak. Even if I'd thought about it ova and ova again ova the last eighteen years."

"So what could be so important that you crash back into our lives?" Tara's voice had more edge than she intended. Jax clutched her hand. Chibs bit his lower lip. Tara was amazed at how time had aged her old friend. The salt and pepper hair was now shimmering white, and his dark eyes crinkled even though he wasn't smiling. He'd run to the lean, so his wiry frame was even thinner than Tara remembered. _You're an old man, Filip Telford. It's something I'd never imagined you to be._

"Trinity is dead," Chibs announced with no preamble. Tara stiffened as Jax tightened his grasp on her hand. She looked over at her husband. Tears misted his eyes, and his lips trembled, but he didn't cry. She could hear his teeth grinding as she turned her gaze back to Chibs.

"What happened?" Tara asked. She knew if Jax opened his mouth, he'd dissolve into a puddle of tears. It was better for her to ask the questions right now.

"They're rulin' it a suicide," Chibs stated. Again, Tara winced at Jax's grip. "But I dinna believe it. Neither does Maureen."

 _Maureen Ashby._ The name reverberated in Tara's soul. She'd never met John Teller's paramour, but she definitely felt the aftershocks of her truth. Tara's mind immediately went to memories that were over twenty years old. _Jax was in prison._ Tara initially believed the letters had been found by mistake, but over the years, she'd realized it was fate that brought John Teller's love letters to her. The consequences of reading still haunted her, but she knew that if she had it to do all over again, she would. Jax needed the truth.

"Trinity would have never—" Jax stammered. Images of his half-sister were branded on his brain. Pale copper hair. _Ophelia's hair._ Pale blue eyes. Fair skin. Jax's daughter was like his sister in so many ways. Jax knew he'd never see her again, but knowing that she was gone was more than he bargained for. Chibs nodded.

"Aye, I know," the Scot replied. "Maureen knows too. That's why she came to me. She thinks the Kings are involved somehow, and they came after her because she was a Teller."

Tara's eyes went back to Jax. He sat back. For a moment, Tara saw a glimmer of SAMCRO in his face. It was the way his jaw tightened and his lips thinned. It was the flash of his sky blue eyes, then the slight snarl that came with fury. Jax's grip loosened on her hand, and Tara began to panic. She was watching him turn, right before her eyes. The Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde complex was her husband's burgeoning fury. Nausea churned in her gut.

"What does that have to do with us?" Tara's voice edged on hysteria. "Why would you come here now? For all intents and purposes, everyone but you, Althea Jarry, Tyne Patterson, and the WitSec program think we're dead."

Chibs smile was cynical as he looked down. Jax understood immediately.

"They know we're alive don't they?" Jax murmured. Chibs looked up and met Teller's eyes. Chibs didn't have to answer aloud. Jax already knew.

It was now Tara's turn to tremble as reality flooded her. Her lips quivered as she began to cry. Terrified, she stood and walked towards the kitchen. Jax followed her and grabbed her arm. Tara stopped dead in her tracks. Her hazel eyes were a movie, replaying all the pain that plagued their lives in SAMCRO. A knot formed in Jax's throat as scene after scene played in his mind.

 _The lead pipe seemed to scream as it hit Opie's skull._ Jax's heart hammered in his earsas his eyes slammed shut. _Clay's blood poured from his throat. Tara. Oh God, Tara, no…_ Blood splattered kitchen walls came alive in vivid color. His eyes took in the scene all over again, as the recollection of carnage became real. _Gemma. A bullet between her eyes._ Every coffin came into clear view as he struggled with his emotions. Every headstone bashed his skull in. When he opened his eyes, he realized his shirt was soaked with tears.

"They knew we are alive, Chibs?" Tara questioned now. "How?"

"I dunno Tara," Chibs responded.

"How did you find us?" she asked. She pulled her arm from Jax's grasp and hugged herself. She felt cold, despite her robe. Sunlight still poured through the windows of their home, and warmth diffused the space, but Tara couldn't stop shivering. Jax moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her. Instinctively, she pulled away. All the pain and heartache of SAMCRO raced in through her, and as much as it hurt to pull away, she needed to do it to preserve her sanity. Jax's eyes ached as she pulled from him.

"I shouldna hae come," Chibs said. He stood from his position on the couch. Immediately, Tara stiffened, and her eyes flashed with righteous anger. She stalked towards the older man and stood before him. Her face was mere centimeters from his.

"You shouldn't have come?" she said through gritted teeth. "You've got some fucking nerve, Chibs Telford. You're in _my_ house. Not by invitation. Not by request. You just fucking show up and give us news like this and not expect questions in return? What the fuck do you expect to accomplish? You obviously want Jax to come back to Charming, or your ass wouldn't be here."

"Tara, stop," Jax warned. Tara wouldn't be deterred. She saw the dangerous fire that sparked in Chibs' eyes, but she didn't care.

"How did you find us, Chibs?" she asked. "I deserve to know. You wouldn't be here if you didn't think we were in danger, I get that. But I don't get why you wouldn't tell me _how_ you knew. It doesn't make sense. You drove cross-country to find us. You didn't think about the danger then, so why now?"

"You're right, Tara," Chibs acquiesced. "But get something straight. The minute Maureen came to Charming, I knew exactly what was going on. I knew the Kings were looking for you. I knew Trinity didn't die by her own hand, and to me, that meant they were going to do whatever it took to find you, Jax, and the kids. I have no intention asking you to come back to Charming. That life is long gone. I'll find Trinity's killer. I only came to you to warn you of the danger. That's all."

"Then tell us how you got here," Jax requested. "How did you find us?"

"Althea," Chibs answered. The slight, dark haired, dark eyed sheriff still loomed fresh in his memory. He remembered how much Chibs detested her.

"Jarry helped you?" Jax asked. "I think she would rather been set on file first. She wouldn't betray her job for the MC, much less you. You hate her, and I'm pretty sure that she hates you just as much."

"Circumstances change, brother," Chibs said. "You've been gone eighteen years. That's a long time."

Tara's eyes narrowed as she took Chibs' words in. She watched as the old man's face softened. His dark eyes spoke volumes, even if his words were drenched in double entondres.

"She's your old lady," Tara whispered. Chibs' eyes lowered as a blush diffused his cheeks. Had Tara not been so angry, she might have laughed at the biker's discomfort.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Jax said with a mix of shock, annoyance, and admiration. "Jarry? How the fuck does that work? She's a sheriff for Chrissake!"

"No one knows," Chibs returned. "Aside from Bobby and Tig, no one knows she's my old lady. We try to keep it separate, but honestly, we've been helping each other to improve Charming. It's not the place it was when you left it. We struck alliances with the One-Niners and the Mayans. We work together now."

"How fucking Kum By Yah of you," Tara snapped. She wasn't buying it. Gangs were gangs. It never changed. "I don't believe that for a second. MCs always need an enemy. Always."

Chibs coldly grinned, and the old scars on his face stretched with the smile.

"Does the name August Marks mean anything to you, Tara?" he asked. Tara shivered with his words. _August Marks._ The gangster. Jax Teller's sacrificial lamb. He was their way out. He was the man that Jax turned in to save them. Chibs laughed low at Tara's obvious discomfort. "I see that it does. He's been running shit from that jail cell. His men are all over Stockton and Charming. That and the Irish Kings are what we battle against."

"Fucking the sheriff is a perk, then?" Tara questioned. Jax's eyebrows raised. _Where is this woman coming from?_ Gone was the Tara of just an hour ago. In her place was an infuriated woman he didn't know. She'd all but disappeared over the last eighteen years. _If your life isn't threatened every single day, you begin to feel safe._

"Aye," Chibs replied without hesitation. "Best piece of ass I've eva had."

The sound of laughter filled the room. Tara turned and saw Jax almost giggling. Unable to help himself, Chibs joined in. Only Tara remained stone faced. The laughter quickly died off. Silently, Tara walked to the loveseat and sat. Both her heart and her body sank, and she buried her face in her hands. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. She knew she was in shock. _Eighteen years gone down the drain._ All the sacrifice was meaningless.

She felt the couch sink. Jax was by her side again.

"So where do we go from here?" she heard him ask. She looked up. Chibs was now back on the couch, openly staring at them. She hadn't felt this hollow in a long time. All the hard work and the secret and the outright lies were for nothing.

"I'm gonna stick in the area for a couple of days. See what I can find out. See if the Kings know what's going on. Jarry has alerted WitSec and the local sheriff's office, so they are aware of what's going on. If it proves a credible threat, they may have to move ye."

"That can't fucking happen," Tara said. "Abel is getting married in two weeks. Tommy is graduating college, and the twin are graduating high school before that. They're adults now. We can't force them to leave without telling them why. I can't have Abel leave his bride, nor can I have Tommy and the girls put their educations on hold."

"They dinna know that yer Witness Protection?" Chibs asked. Both Tara and Jax shook their heads in the negative.

"It was better that way," Jax responded. "We couldn't risk anyone knowing anything. We didn't want to teach the kids to lie either." Chibs nodded in response. Their logic made sense. It boggled his mind to think of Abel being a man, much less a husband. Tommy was graduating college, and the twins were graduating high school. _Time moves too goddamned fast._

"I'm gonna ask again," Tara said. "Where do we go from here?"

Chibs inhaled deeply. "Keep doing what you're doing. Don't deviate from your normal routine. WitSec will be watching you, as will the sheriffs and I. Until we figure out what's going on, just do what you need to do."

 _Yeah, it's that simple._ Tara silently yelled. _It would've been better if you never came, Chibs. At least then, if the Irish were to kill us, I wouldn't be living in fear every day prior to my demise._

"And the graduations? The wedding?" Jax asked.

"Don't stop them," Chibs instructed. "If the Kings are watching, ye canna let them know that we know. If ye cancel the wedding, then they'll know you're onto them."

Tara shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Do ye wanna tell the kids, Tara?" Chibs questioned. His eyes were cold and unreadable. Fire rose in her belly. She didn't know what she should do. Part of her wanted to grab the kids and run, but they were adults, and that wouldn't fly. The other part of her wanted to hop of the back of Jax's bike and go after the bastards that threatened her happiness. _Just like the old days_.

"Of course not," she snapped back. "But that doesn't mean I have to accept what's going on."

Jax stared at his wife. He couldn't imagine the jumble of emotions that ran through her. The club did its damage to him, but the damage it did to Tara was a completely different issue altogether. After Abel's kidnapping, her hand injury, Otto framing her for murder, and multiple attempts on her life, there was no reason for her to ever want to turn back. They'd escaped it, moved past it, and went beyond it. To the outside world, Jax and Tara no longer existed. They were dead. The fact that Chibs Telford sat across from her brought that past very much to life again, and she was on the verge of losing her mind over it.

"It's not Chibs' fault, babe," Jax whispered. Slowly, he grabbed her hand. "He's trying to protect us."

Tara's eyes flooded, and her lips trembled. Without warning, she simply broke down into tears. Sob after sob tore through her as all the memories she buried came alive again.

"You can't go back, Jax," she cried. Chibs' heart shattered by watching her. He stood and sat on her other side. "I can't do this again. I just can't."

"I not asking ye to come back, lass," Chibs said low. "I just dinna want anything to happen to ye. Yer kids have grown up, and they're doing amazing things. I dinna want to jeopardize them at all. That's why I'm here. I want to stop the Kings in their tracks."

Tara nodded, but she didn't speak. She couldn't bear opening her mouth. All she could do is cry at the memories. Jax held her and rocked her gently. He placed pensive kisses on her brow. Tara leaned into him, just like she always did.

"I should go," Chibs whispered. He stood and walked towards the door.

"Chibs!" Tara called as he walked away. He stopped and turned, and by then Tara had shook Jax off and stood. Tara walked to him. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was tear-stained, but every move showed remorse. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. You've just scared the hell out of me. I'm sorry for being hateful, but I am scared to death. I don't want to go backwards. I didn't come this far to go back now."

Chibs nodded in understanding, and he gathered Tara in his arms. It amazed him at how nothing changed. She was still like a little sister to him, just as Jax was his brother. He felt her hard, aching breath rise and fall against him. His heart broke for her. She broke away gently, and she stared up at him.

"You're staying a couple of days?" she asked him.

"Or longer," Chibs replied. "Depends on the sheriff here. It also depends on the Kings."

"You think you'd want come to a wedding?" Tara asked. She glanced over at Jax, who smiled broadly. Chibs' eyes narrowed. _One minute she hates me, the next she's inviting me to her son's wedding._ He shook his head. _I dinna understand women. I dinna think I eva will._ One glance at Jax told him that he was in complete agreement. Still, staying in the middle-of-nowhere-North Carolina wasn't a tempting prospect. Being around Jax and Tara was the only reason he'd enjoy this time.

"We'll see, Tara," Jax said. "We'd really have to figure out how this wild, crazy Scot fits into the lives of Eric and Elizabeth Morgan. We're not Jax and Tara anymore. I know you want to make amends for your mean words, but Chibs being at Abel's wedding may not be the way to do it."

Tara looked down. "What insanity has come over us, Jax?" she whispered. "I never thought Jax and Tara would ever see the light of day again. Now, Chibs is here, and I feel like there's a small part of me that could fall right back into our old life. There is part of me that longs for Charming, even now." Jax's eyes widened with that declaration. "I just can't go back. I know what I am when I am there, and it's not good."

"Then why do ye want me at Abel's wedding, Tara?" It was a valid question. Tara's eyes were pained as she opened her mouth to answer.

"You're family Chibs," she answered. "You're here. Jax and I never thought we'd see you again. I want you there. I can't explain why. I just feel like you're here for a reason, and you need to be there."

"I'll think about it, lass." Chibs kissed her forehead. Jax stood and hugged him. When they broke apart, Chibs was amazed to see the soft wrinkles that lined Jax's face. He'd never imagined Teller as an old man, but since he'd just passed his sixty-first birthday, he knew that age caught everyone. He now considered age a privilege denied to many. Instead of hating it, he embraced it, but it was still weird to see Jax Teller as the father of adult kids.

"I'm gonna go," Chibs said.

"I'll walk you out," Jax stated. He glanced over his shoulder at Tara. He knew that work wouldn't be on the agenda today. He'd call the shop and say he was spending time with his wife. Maybe a couple of days off, just enough to process Chibs' arrival, would be enough to get things on track. They needed to be whole in order to stay safe. Yes, time off would be perfect. They'd lock themselves up in their room and remind one another exactly who they were, and they would emerge stronger and better.

Chibs swung the door open and stepped outside. Jax followed, shutting the door carefully behind him. Now alone, without Tara's scared and manic energy, the men looked at one another. There was so much to say, so much to go over.

"I'm sorry for coming, Jackie Boy," Chibs stated.

"Don't be," Jax responded. "I missed the hell out of you, Brother. The circumstances aren't what I would've wanted. I hate that my sister's death is what brought you here. I can't imagine what Maureen is going through."

"It's bad Jackson," Chibs said. "She's a shell of her former self. Trinity was everything to her."

"She doesn't know that you're—"

"No. Everyone thinks I'm in Nevada, visiting some other SAMCRO chapters. Only Althea knows where I am." Jax nodded.

"Well, no matter what, I'm glad you're here," Jax said. Chibs smiled sadly. They embraced one last time.

"I think we're gonna be here for a couple of days. Try to process everything," Jax explained. "Do you have a burner?" Chibs nodded. "Take my number." Chibs took out the phone, and Jax threw numbers out. "I'll know it's you."

"I'll call ye as soon as I know anything, Jackie Boy," Chibs murmured. The men embraced again. Once they pulled away from one another, Chibs walked towards his shiny black Harley. Jax didn't move. He watched as his dearest friend straddled the bike and cranked it. The sound of pipes booming to life struck a chord within him. As Chibs sped away, the dormant part of his soul slowly woke and boomed to life. In a matter of a couple of hours, his life had now gone from normal to messy, but he welcomed it. For the first time in eighteen years, Jax Teller felt completely alive.

"


	3. Chapter 3

"You're some kind of beautiful, Opie," the words fell from his mouth, and she believed them. She stared into his eyes; they were the palest green she'd ever seen. The lilt of his Southern drawl pulled her heart in, but his strong, wiry arms pulled her body closer. She loved the way _Opie_ dripped from his mouth. For a moment, the girl known as Cait Morgan reveled in her father's name for her. When Lucius Everett spoke, her childish nickname had never sounded so good.

"I don't know what to say," Opie whispered. Her eyes met his. "I don't think anyone has ever called me beautiful." A disarming smile spread across his lips.

"Somehow, I just don't believe that," he countered. "I don't think there is a man alive that could look at you and not see how gorgeous you are."

Lucius' fingers grazed her ribs, and Opie's breath caught. Electric fire bolted through her veins, and she felt lightheaded. She was instantly thankful for the massive magnolia she was pressed against; if it weren't for that, Opie knew she would have fallen. Part of her wondered if it was already too late. She closed her eyes as his body grazed hers. Slowly, deliberately, he kissed her. As their lips met, she was amazed at how soft they were. She'd always imagined a boy's lips would be harder. She was surprised.

Lucius' hands stayed put on either side of Opie's waist. Her heart slammed against her chest. As he pulled away, he stared intently at her, searching the depths of her eyes. To his surprise, there was nothing there. What Lucius Everett didn't realize is that Opie came from a long line of liars, thieves, and criminals. Even Opie didn't know that about herself, but either way, she had innate sense of survival. Her feelings would never be written on her face. Lucius was used to girls falling over themselves to attract attention. Opie looked indifferent. Frustrated, Lucius pressed his lips in a tight, thin line, and Opie remained plastered against the magnolia, unsure of what to say.

"You're blushing," he whispered, bemused. _Fucking ginger genetics._ Even if her eyes were fathomless, her skin wasn't. If she was embarrassed, her cheeks would flush. Out in the sun for more than five minutes? She'd burn. Now, with this hot boy pressed against her, Opie was sure that her cheeks were scarlet with her desire to kiss him back. It was ridiculous, this trait he'd found so enamoring. Opie's fair skin never cut her any slack.

She'd grown up at the tail-end of many a joke. For the longest time, she didn't even know herself as by any other name than Opie. _Opie._ The name of Andy Griffith's fiery haired son. The story she'd been told was that she had the same hair color. It was ridiculous. She hated it. The story made no sense at all. The fact the Lucius knew her by that name at all annoyed the hell out of her…but he made it sound sexy, so she was ready to forgive it.

"Copper top," Lucius whispered. Opie smiled nostalgically. Her brothers had tormented her with that name for as long as she could remember. Her long, fiery curls were a source of entertainment in the family. Being the only redhead, with blonde and blue eyed brothers, just like their father, and her sister, her twin, was dark haired and hazel eyed, like their mother. She always felt she was the outcast, the standout. Red hair, gray eyes. The Morgans were all tall and fair, but her orangey locks always got her noticed. Up until this moment, Opie hated it.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured again. Lucius' lips hovered centimeters from Opie's. She stared at him openly, just as he stared at her. The setting North Carolina sun glowed in the distance, and it cast violet and vermillion shadows just beyond Lucius' stunning lime green eyes. His white teeth flashed against his tanned skin as he grinned. His chest was inches from hers, and she could feel his heart thudding against chest. _He wants me just as much as I want him._ The realization was an exhilarating one.

"You want to kiss me again?" he challenged. His mouth was teasing, but his body language betrayed him. He didn't realize Opie felt his trembling fingertips as they hooked the belt loops of her jeans. He didn't know she heard the jagged inhale of breath as he pressed her against the magnolia. _You want me._ She didn't think; feelings ruled her mind, her body, and her soul. Opie's hands had a mind of their own as they pulled him closer. They shot up his shirt and roamed his smooth skin.

"Op—Cait—Op—" He struggled with her name, but his smile told her everything I needed to know. Opie's hands grasped his face, and she crushed his lips with a hard, strong kiss. Adrenaline poured through me as his tongue darted out and touched hers. She gasped, but she didn't break the kiss; instead, Opie concentrated on his hands freely roaming her belly. She was caught somewhere between desire and lust, and she couldn't breathe. It was the best feeling in the world.

"Cait!" a voice called her name through the haze. "Cait! Your dad is here!"

She rolled her eyes, annoyed with her father's timing. On any other night, he'd be a few minutes late, but something in him must've known of her delicious tryst behind the diner where she worked.

"I've gotta go," she whispered.

"Do me one favor before you do," he returned. Her cheeks flushed again.

"What?" she wanted to leave, but his gaze was like glue. Opie couldn't move, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Say my name," he urged. "You haven't said it once since you got here."

"Are you crazy?!" she hissed. That sexy grin spread across his lips again, and she lost.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" he teased.

"Yes," Opie admitted. She didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but there was one undeniable fact: Lucius Everett was sexy as hell.

His fingertips sank into the tight denim that covered her hips, and she swore that he would set her afire.

"Only if you say mine," Opie fired back. Her gray eyes lit teasingly. "Not Opie—that's not me. Say my real name."

"Cait," he whispered. He bent down and kissed her again. His lips were seeking, intense, and haunting. He broke away from her for a moment, just long enough to whisper against her skin. "Say it," he gently demanded.

"Lucius," she whispered against his mouth. He pulled away. Silently, he grazed her face with his hand.

"Simply beautiful," he said. This time, she smiled at the compliment.

"Go," she commanded. He didn't need to be told again. She watched him turn and run. His long, dark hair bounced as he ran. She watched as the long line of his back strained against his tight black shirt, and his legs looked endless in his black jeans. She touched her lips and closed her eyes, reveling in the moment so recently passed. She could still feel the sensation of his lips. Her fingers traced the smooth skin of her mouth as I turned away.

"There you are." Her father's voice startled her. She jumped. Her eyes widened as Jax came into view. He was annoyed, but beneath that aggravation Opie saw genuine worry, and instant guilt flooded her. Still, she glanced to ensure Lucius was far from her father's view.

"Damn, Op, are you gonna make me wait all night?" Jax asked. His eyes were wide, and Opie knew she'd pissed him off.

"Sorry, Dad," she stammered. "I—I was just taking the garbage out." She prayed that he didn't see her kiss-bruised lips or smell Lucius' cologne on her skin. "A waitress' work is never done." She gave an eye roll—just for good measure. A relieved smile etched her father's handsome face, and she exhaled carefully, relaxing under his considerably calmer gaze. He casually draped his arm over her shoulders as they walked to his massive truck. Opie pulled the heavy door open and climbed inside.

Jax got in and slammed the door. Within minutes, he cranked the massive Silverado to life. Within seconds, they were speeding down the highway. The huge truck felt almost weightless as it hugged the curvy roads.

"You can have your mom's car tomorrow," Jax's low baritone broke the silence. "She and I are going to take a couple of days off. Maybe go up to the cabin for a couple of days."

The cabin was Jax and Tara's mountain getaway. It was their tiny piece of Charming in the mountains of North Carolina. They'd bought it when the kids were little, and they'd spent many a family vacation there. Now, as all four kids had grown, they used it as a couple's retreat. Sometimes, they could almost pretend it was SAMCRO's cabin; they could remember crazy teenage weekends with Donna and Opie, times when Gemma and Clay were whole, when Bobby and Chibs were younger-it was a time when nostalgia could take over—and they took advantage of it where they could.

"Everything ok?" Opie asked. She looked over at Jax. It amazed her how young he still looked. Her parents both seemed ageless. She prayed she aged like them.

"Yeah," Jax roughly said. "We just figured we'd take off before everything got crazy. Don't worry—we'll be gone maybe a night or two—we'll be back in time for your graduation-then we'll head to South Carolina for Luke's graduation while you and Lala are at Myrtle Beach. Then, we'll all be back for Adam's wedding."

Just like that, Opie felt half her summer was gone. She couldn't believe her high school graduation was just around the corner. Luke was graduating college early—but that's what Luke did. He'd graduated high school a year early. She smiled as she thought of her brother. Ever the overachiever, Luke was honest and humble and beautiful, just like their mother. Then Adam would get married to a wonderful girl. She didn't like growing up. She stared out the window at the quickly darkening Carolina skyline. The red had deepened into purple, and the horizon slowly blackened.

"You okay being alone?" Jax queried. "I know Lala is in the mountains until Sunday night. Your mom and I will be back on Monday."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Opie answered. Her mind and heart were racing as she pulled her phone out of her bag. Lucius had already texted her.

 _I can't get the taste of you off my lips._ Her cheeks flushed as she read it.

"Who's that?" Jax asked. Opie flipped the screen out of view.

"Just Lala," she said. "She's being stupid." Jax rolled his eyes. Opie began to text Lucius back.

 _Same._ She smiled as she clicked away. _I miss you already._ The response was instantaneous.

 _When can I see you again?_ Opie chewed on the inside of her cheek as her father pulled into their long, gravel driveway. He quickly parked the truck. He opened the door.

"You getting out?" Jax asked his daughter. She nodded and grabbed her things.

 _Sooner than you think. I'll text you later._ The phone disappeared in her bag, and she leapt out of the truck. The lights were on inside. She could see Tara's long dark hair gleaming through the windows. They entered quickly in an effort to escape the humid night.

"Hey babe," Jax said softly. He wrapped an effortless arm around his wife's waist. Opie stared at Tara for a moment. Tara's face was visibly swollen, and her eyes were red.

"Have you been crying, Mama?" she asked.

"A little," Tara admitted. She would never tell her daughter the true reason of her tears. _What could I say?_ she wondered. _Hey Opie, I'm crying because your daddy's bad biker past stepped through the door of our house._

"You okay?" Opie asked. Tara warmed instantly. Opie had always been sensitive to her moods, and now, as her daughter circled the kitchen island and hugged her, she knew that hadn't faded over the years.

"Yeah," Tara lied. _I'm fine. Just thinking about the IRA. You know what that is Opie? The fucking Irish Republican Army. They know we are alive. They know we're breathing, and they're going to hunt us down. And I have to pretend everything is fine...that we're not going to the cabin to plan our next move. That we're not lying to your fucking face, just like we've been your whole life._ "It's just a lot of change coming, you know?"

Opie nodded. It was heavy on her heart too, but in a completely different way. She knew this was the last summer she'd have before college. This would be the last summer she could roam wild and free without a care in the world. Kisses filled her memory. _Lucius._ He felt like more than a summer fling. But his dark hair and light eyes still teased her.

"I'll be fine," Tara whispered as she looked up at Opie. _When did you get taller than me?_ She smiled. _Damn, I must be shrinking._

"I know, Mama," Opie answered back. "You're the strongest of all of us." Opie broke the embrace and went to the fridge. She opened it casually, and she quickly grabbed an apple. Taking a massive bite out of it, she stared at her parents. Jax had gone to Tara, and he whispered in her ear. Tara nodded carefully and looked up at him. There was so much admiration and hope in her eyes. _I want a love like that._

"She's right babe," Jax replied. "I don't know what we'd do without you." Instantly, Opie felt awkward in their presence. It happened often. The looks they shared sometimes lit the room on fire, children be damned. This was one of those moments.

"I'm going to bed," Opie said quietly. She walked over and kissed them both on the cheek.

"G'night Ophel-Opie," Tara whispered. She didn't slip up often, but she knew that the day's events definitely contributed to her Freudian lapse. To her relief, Opie didn't notice. She just smiled and walked upstairs, leaving her parents behind.

Safe within the confines of her room, Opie fell onto her bed. She reached over to her bag and grabbed her phone. It lit up with messages from Lucius.

 _What do you mean, sooner than you think?_

 _You can't tease me like that, O._ This statement was followed by a smiley face.

 _Why not?_ She answered back. _Teasing is what I do best._

 _Tell me about it,_ he answered. She laughed. She heard he parents climbing the steps. Her breath caught in her throat as she listened to them. Their feet stepped on the well-worn oak floors. Their bedroom door opened and shut again. Satisfied that they were in their own little world, she turned back to the phone.

 _Look outside._ Opie's eyes widened, but she stood and walked to the window. Below the massive magnolia that sat just beyond her window stood Lucius Everett. He smiled disarmingly up at her, and all logic was gone. She turned and grabbed her phone. Leaving the room, she sped down the hallway to her parents' room.

"Mama?" she called through the door. She waited for a response.

"What's up, Opie?" her father called. She flushed, knowing what that meant. She and her siblings had learned long ago that if neither Mama nor Daddy came to the door, they were too caught up in one another to answer.

"Um…Jen just texted me…she wants me to come over tonight. Can I go?" There was a jumble and a whisper between them, and then a tart answer.

"Yeah," he replied. "Your mom's keys are on the counter. Just be home before ten tomorrow morning. Your mom and I won't leave until you're back."

"Okay, thanks," Opie answered, surprised at how easy the lie rolled off her tongue. She didn't like deceiving them, but she knew the truth would never fly. Excitement filled her veins as she texted Lucius. _Go to the end of the driveway. I'll meet you there._ She practically flew down the stairs and out the door. Getting into her mother's SUV, she fully expected to wait on Lucius at the end of their long, winding drive, but to her shock and amazement, he was there. He slid into the vehicle with ease, and with a devilish smile, he slammed the door.

"How did—" Opie began. Lucius stifled her question with a hot, demanding kiss. In that instant, all questions were gone. As they broke apart, she looked breathlessly at him.

"Where are we going?" she asked him. His hand immediately grasped hers, and she thought about how perfect that motion felt.

"Wherever you want to take us," he replied. "Let's just go." A brilliant smile lit his features, and she grinned back. It was pure magic.

"I think I have the perfect place," she answered. She pulled the car back into drive, and they drove away. As Opie navigated the car over the winding, meandering roads, she felt invincible. As she looked on into the night, she felt a million tiny thunderbolts strike within her veins. She was alive; she felt electric. It was a perfect night, and with Lucius at her side, she felt like anything was possible.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you think our daughter is really with Jen?" Tara's voice broke the silence. Jax's hauntingly beautiful blue eyes stared at his wife. They lay side by side, naked, drenched from yet another soul-wrenching lovemaking session. With only a bare whisper of a sheet covering them, a moment of silence seemed to answer her. The windows were open, and the sound of cicadas reverberated in their ears.

"Of course she is," Jax replied. "Why would Opie lie to us?"

Tara laughed. The sound was half harsh, half amused. She rolled on her back and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan as it spun. June in North Carolina was almost inhumanely hot, but not the same way Charming was. Charming had a dry, thin heat; the tiny town of Silver Spring, North Carolina was always drenched in humidity. Jax didn't seem bothered by it, but Tara always dreaded the summer.

"She'd lie to us because she's eighteen and horny," Tara said laughingly, but when she glanced at Jax, she stopped. His face was a mask of mortification.

"She's not having sex," Jax said quietly. Tara wanted to laugh again, but the seriousness of his voice stopped her. "The girls are not having sex."

"Seriously Jax?" Tara's voice bordered on annoyance. "Where the hell was this attitude when I caught Abel banging Hannah up at the cabin?" Tara's cheeks lit with fire at the memory.

The cabin was a lot like the one the club frequented, just in a different setting. The small three bedroom, one bath cabin was nestled within the crook of the Appalachians. Tara made sure it was simply but tastefully decorated, and some of the smaller things from the old cabin were scattered about. It was her sanctuary, really, this small mountain world. She could pretend she was in Charming, and she just needed that sometimes.

That day was the end of a particularly bad week. Cranky customers and pain in the ass mechanics had taken their toll on Tara; she missed stitching people back together. She missed making hearts beat again. Her soul ached from not saving lives. She just wasn't the kind of woman that was meant to save cars, and it made her insane that no one seemed to care about her sadness. To add to her sorrow was the anniversary of the day they'd left Charming. It loomed on the calendar and on her soul. She missed that middle-of-nowhere town more than she'd imagined. She thought no one noticed her pain.

Jax noticed. He'd seen the agony in her eyes, heard the sorrow in her voice. Every night that week, she was in bed just after the kids, her back turned to him. It amazed him at how she missed their tiny, dirt covered town. Aside from the brothers of SAMCRO, he didn't think of Charming. For him, the place was always made by the people, not the other way around. Still, he knew that in Charming, Tara had her work. She had her memories, and even if many of them were bad, they were still hers. By that point, they'd been in Silver Springs for thirteen years, and for Tara, it never quite felt like home.

He'd swept into the shop that morning, two dozen white roses in hand. Dressed in jeans and a flannel, he looked so much like the Jax she fell in love with. She couldn't help but cry, but she smiled through her tears as he took her in his arms.

"Oh Jax," she sobbed. "You knew."

"How could I not, babe?" he questioned. "You're everything. You and those kids. Everything."

They broke apart for a moment. She stared at him. All the agony she felt, the soul-sapping monotony of everyday life, it was worth it. To have a man like Jax Teller, even if the world knew them as Eric and Elizabeth Morgan, was completely worth it. She brushed his lips with hers. Even the harsh, burly

"C'mon, I have a surprise for you." Jax grinned as he spoke. His eyes lit up, and his happiness was infectious. Tara would have followed wherever Jax Teller led. She always had. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She giggled as they stepped out into the cool, autumn sunshine. When Jax stopped, Tara gasped at the surprise.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

The 2003 Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport glimmered in the golden sunshine. All black and glossy, outfitted with black pipes and accessories, it was a near identical replica of Jax's old bike. Only the SAMCRO reaper was missing. Tara's lips trembled as she stared at it. Memory after memory ebbed and flowed within her, and she welcomed it all. Sometimes, she forgot what it was like to feel.

"Did you—" Tara began.

"No, I just rented it for the day," he replied. "Let's go."

"But the guys—"

"Can handle it. They've known about this all week." Jax smiled broadly. He had every base covered.

Jax didn't have to say more. With bright, excited eyes, they ran to the bike like the kids they once were. Jax cranked it, and they rushed off. The cabin was less than hour away, and they got there easily. Once the reached their destination, Tara visibly relaxed. She slid off the bike and followed Jax inside. Hand-in-hand, they entered the cabin. They were barely through the threshold when they heard the music. Slow, undulating bass pulsated against the walls. Tara looked over at Jax, but he'd already began his approach on the bedrooms. Tara followed, but he'd already gotten a few paces ahead of her.

"What the hell?!" Jax bellowed. The question was punctuated with a female scream. When Tara got the bedroom door Jax just opened, she saw the reason for her husband's incredulous state.

"Dad! I – " Abel's voice echoed over the music. Tara gaped at the scene that was unfolding before her. Abel, all six-foot-two of him, lay on their bed, naked, barely covered by the sheets. His girlfriend, Hannah, lay next to him. Her dark hair was a mass of disheveled waves. For a moment, Tara saw she and Jax in bed. It didn't matter. Lit with fury, Tara lunged past Jax and entered the room.

"What the hell are you doing, Abe—Adam?!" _Damn,_ her brain yelled. It never failed. When she was angry enough, the kids' real names threatened to roll of her tongue. Deflecting the mistake, she turned to the young girl at Abel's side. "Hannah, really?"

"Mrs. Morgan, I am so—I didn't think I-I mean-" Hannah stammered.

"You couldn't just fuck in the car?" she shouted. "I mean, isn't that what teenagers do?"

"Mom, I didn't think you'd be here!" Abel returned.

"Obviously," Tara shot back. "Obviously, you weren't fucking thinking."

"I'm sorry—" Abel said. His pale blue eyes were downcast in shame.

"Just get dressed," Tara ordered. She pivoted on her heel and left the room. Jax followed.

"Babe—" Jax called. He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "Babe, stop."

"No!" Tara yelled back. "I won't stop! He's banging a girl in _our_ bed!"

"He's eighteen," Jax excused. "He's technically a grown up. As is Hannah. It's perfectly natural. And normal."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she screeched. "You're saying this is okay? Fucking a girl in our bed is alright with you?"

"It's strange, because he's our kid, but it's not wrong, Tara," Jax stated. "Cut him some slack."

The memory faded away now as Tara looked at her shell-shocked husband. In the end, Tara listened to Jax and made them apologize for their sneakiness, but there were no punishments. As much as she'd hated it then, she knew Jax, to a degree, was right.

That's what didn't make sense to her. It was alright for Abel to have sex because he was a consenting adult, but now that it was one of Jax Teller's precious daughters, teenage sex was a problem. His eyes were huge and sad, and while she wanted to feel bad for him, her frustration wouldn't let it happen.

"Doesn't feel too _natural_ now does it?" Tara said softly. Jax shook his head and rolled away from her. Flipping his legs over the side of the bed, he stood. Tara sighed. The long line of his back was beautiful, even it was covered in scars. Tonight was the kind of night that made Tara ache with sadness, and her husband's back only punctuated the emotion. The Sons of Anarchy tattoo had been gone since they'd entered the Program. The removal was to protect them; if his tattoo had been seen by the wrong person, questions would arise, and they couldn't afford for them to.

"No, it doesn't," Jax said through clenched teeth. "But they're girls; it's different." Jax pulled on sweatpants and sat back down on the bed. He looked ahead, as if there was some ghost in front of him.

"How different is it, Jackson?" Tara asked. "Because to me, and to our girls, it's a double standard. It's that same bullshit club mentality I used to deal with. Women have the same right as any man to love someone. Boy or girl, it doesn't matter."

He knew Tara was right: it was a double standard he imposed on his kids. If Opie was sneaking out and sleeping with someone, she was doing it as a legal adult, not as a little girl. By Fall, Opie would be off to college, free from he and Tara. While it was a hard realization, he knew it was a necessary one.

"When did our kids grow up, Tara?" he asked without looking at her.

"I don't know, Jax," she returned. "I feel like we blinked, and they're adults. It's almost too much sometimes." Jax didn't speak after that. He just stared into the distance. Tara's heart broke for him, because she knew what he was thinking.

 _What the fuck do I do now?_ She'd voiced it, felt it, thought it, but Jax had always been the accepting one. It was strange to have the tables turn on her. Silently, she crept across the bed and kissed his shoulder, then the tip of his scars. She grasped his hand and brought it to her lips. Jax turned and faced her. The sheet swished to Tara's waist, and her still firm breasts were completely visible. Jax turned and circled her waist with his arms. She pressed against him and pulled his body tighter still.

It amazed Jax how much her desired her, even now. A kiss from her could make him forget everything, even Opie's virginity, or more importantly, the lack of it.

If Jax could peek into his daughter's world, he'd be devastated to see the answer to his ever-intuitive wife's question. He'd see Opie laying on the banks of the Silver River, Lucius Everett atop her. He would see the small blanket spread beneath them. He'd see her clothes strewn along the dirt. He'd see her legs wrapped around Lucius, begging for more. He'd hear the rhythmic moans and the whispered _I love yous_. Lucius and Ophelia were oblivious to anyone's worry. Nothing else made sense in that moment. The only thing that mattered was the melding of their bodies and souls.

But Jax was in his own blissful world, content to make love to the only woman he'd ever given his heart to. As Tara cried out his name, everything was forgotten, and only his love for Tara remained. He'd worry about his questions tomorrow; for now, he was content gazing upon Tara's face, realizing that's all he needed to make his soul right again.


	5. Chapter 5

"What the fuck is that, Lala? Who the fuck is calling you now? It's fucking nine in the morning."

Lala's head was aching. It couldn't be described as a sharp pain by any means; it was a dull, undulating throb that resonated in her temples. _Goddamned hangover. Ugh._ She opened his eyes to a harsh, unforgiving June sun, and as she focused on the walls of her small hotel room, she felt like she was in hell. Slowly Lala sat up, feeling closer to her father's age than her own. This morning, eighteen was far from the fountain of youth. Eighteen was day old vodka and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke.

"Get me fucking go," Lala demanded. The boy next to her wouldn't budge.

"Ow! Goddamn Laura!" he yelped when her elbow slammed into his ribs. She giggled at the use of her name. No one ever called her Laura, not even her parents. Lala had been her name for as long as she could remember, and she loved it.

"I told you to fucking move, Charlie," she retorted. Free from the confines of the hot, sweaty, half-naked boy beside her, she reached over and grasped the phone from the nightstand. The number was a familiar one, and she smiled.

"Opie," she feigned annoyance. "What the fuck do you want?" The last sentence was said with a smile. Opie would know she was kidding. Opie's giggle on the other end told her she was right.

"Good morning to you too, Sister," she laughed into the phone. Lala's high brow creased in confusion. Opie's voice was a little to high-pitched, a little too giddy. She kicked her endless legs over the side of the bed. Clad only in tiny boy shorts and a sports bra, she found her cutoff shorts from the night before and yanked them on, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear while she did it. Scanning the floor for her tank top, she found it and pulled it over her head. Opie sounded different, strange. Lala thought it best to take the call outside.

"What's up, Sister?" Lala candidly asked her twin. Silence echoed in her ears. "Opie, are you there?" The sun glittered on Lala's fair skin. It was the same fair skin Tara had, almost translucent. If she stayed out, she'd tan, but Opie, with her wicked ginger fairness, would burn. She loved the warm rays dancing on her skin, but she couldn't help but wonder what her twin was doing. As much as they fought, they needed one another just as much.

"Yeah," she sighed languidly in the phone. "I'm here. I'm just exhausted, that's all."

"Did you work late?" Lala questioned. She paced the concrete balcony. She wanted a cigarette, but she'd left them inside. Jax and Tara didn't know Lala smoked. It was one of many things they didn't know about their daughter. They also didn't know that Lala was banging Charlie on a regular basis. They thought she was off with her friend Abby almost every weekend. The truth was that Lala and Charlie spent almost every weekend in strange hotels fucking as much as possible. At twenty-two years old, Charlie was felt more like a man than Lala's high school counterparts. That's what she liked about him.

"Not too late," Opie replied. "I went out."

Again, Lala's brows raised. Lala was the partier. Lala was the crazy one, the wild one. Opie was the sweet one, the smarter one. She was the one constantly studying, while Lala tried to balance the parties with her studies. So far, it was working. She was graduating with honors, but Opie would have high honors. Her twin's achievement was well deserved, and even though Lala sometimes wished she could be as disciplined as Opie, she felt life was more than school work and accolades.

"You went out?" Lala laughed. "With Mom and Dad? Y'all get the AARP discount?" Opie laughed at the last statement.

"No, ar from it," Opie answered coyly. "I went out with Lucius."

Lala whistled through her teeth.

"Daddy's Lucius?" Lala asked. Lucius was a mechanic at their father's shop. He had been since he was eighteen. Now twenty, he managed a couple of less experienced guys. Jax had always praised the young man's skill, but the idea of the tall, ruggedly handsome boy being a partner to her pre-med bound twin was a difficult one to handle.

"Yeah," Opie quietly whispered into the phone. "We've actually been seeing one another for about a month now."

Lala stopped pacing. She was floored. "Is he your—boyfriend?"

Opie was silent for a moment. "Yeah," she answered. "I think he might be." Lala stood against the hotel's brick façade, unable to think. _How did this happen? Where the fuck was I?_

"Do Mama and Daddy know?" Lala questioned.

"No," Opie replied. "You're the only one, Lala."

Lala's heart swelled a little with that statement. At least she could say she was the first to know.

"Well, take it slow," Lala instructed. It was as if they were years apart in age, not minutes. "You just met—don't be like me and fuck on the first date."

"It's a little late for that," Opie murmured. Lala's eyes became huge.

"What?" Lala yelped. "What do you mean _it's a little late for that?"_ She heard Opie sigh over the phone.

"We had sex," Opie replied. _Like it's that fucking simple,_ Lala mind yelled. _You meet a guy and fuck him. Virginity gone._ The irony of her thoughts didn't escape her. For years, Lala had been the crazy one. Opie had covered crazy nights out for her twin since they were fourteen. Sometimes, Lala wondered how in the hell someone as sweet as Opie could be her sister, much less her twin. Lala was harder; she'd always been. When they were little, Opie was they shy one, and Lala was the flirty, talkative one. It carried over to their adolescence, and by fifteen, Lala had ventured out. By her sixteenth birthday, her virginity was long gone. The only one that knew any of it was Opie. Opie was Lala's gatekeeper. Now, it seemed, the tables were finally turning.

For a moment, Lala couldn't speak. She didn't quite know what to say. She didn't know how she missed it. _Is this the way it's going to be when we go to college?_ They were going to separate schools in the fall. _Are our lives going to go so fast that we're going to stop knowing one another?_ The thought was insane. Opie was her twin, her other half, and now, her sister lost her virginity, and Lala had no idea Opie was seeing someone.

"Do you love him, Op?" Lala whispered into the phone.

"Did you love Jake Rivera?" Opie quickly replied. _Jake._ Lala's first. They were fifteen when they pledged to love one another forever. If Lala squinted, she could still see the brown eyed blonde boy standing in front of her, sweet smile plastered across his face. She thought she loved him—until Ben Hefner came and changed her mind. Like that, Jake Rivera was gone, and Lala was on to the next one.

"No," Lala honestly replied. "I didn't. But this isn't about me, Opie. It's about you." The other end of the phone was silent. "Do you love him, Opie?"

"I think I do, Lala," she answered. "I think I do."

Lala sighed. She was afraid of that. Opie sounded smitten. She didn't know how real her sister's love for Lucius was, but it didn't matter. She knew she would support Opie through hell and back. That's what their love was. It was unconditional.

"Well then I'm happy for you," Lala said. "Welcome to being a hozilla." The last word was said with a giggle. On the other end of the phone, Opie rolled her eyes and laughed.

"There's only one hozilla in this family," Opie joked. "And you're still the queen—for now."

Lala laughed openly. It felt good. Suddenly, Lala heard the hotel room door open. She looked up and saw Charlie there. Six foot two, with golden hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, it was impossible for her not to want him. He raised his arms and grabbed the door's threshold. His lean, shirtless body, clad only in loosely fitted dark indigo jeans, ripped with muscle. He was absolutely beautiful. Lala smiled and motioned to go inside. She stood to follow.

"I love you Sister," Lala quietly said.

"Love you Sister," Opie returned. It was the way they always ended their conversations. "See you soon."

As Lala ended the call, her eyes rested on Charlie's amazing belly. Overcome with desire, she walked to her conquest, ready to jump his bones. He bit his lower lip and smiled, knowing exactly what the dark haired vixen wanted. For a moment, they locked eyes, and everything around them was forgotten. Lala stalked towards him and ran a long, perfectly manicured fingernail down his washboard abs. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside for another clandestine tryst, oblivious to the man staring at them from his room across the courtyard, but Lala noticed him as she turned to shut the door.

 _Who the fuck is he? He's looking at me like he knows me,_ she thought. The man looked had a large saddlebag slung over his shoulder. _He's leaving._ It was strange that he captured her attention, but she couldn't look away. His eyes cut through her, like they were staring at a ghost. He gaped openly at them. He was tall, probably as tall as her father, with a glistening shock of snowy white hair. The goatee on his otherwise clean-shaven face was the same color and well groomed. Clad in head-to-toe black, he cut a lean, striking figure against the white brick backdrop of the hotel.

Lala watched him squint for a moment, shake his head in disbelief, and begin his decent to parking lot below. Lala watched as he raced downstairs, crossed the parking lot, and straddled his bike. When he cranked it, and the pipes poured gutturals into the previously serene morning, she couldn't simply close the door and walk away. The man in black ripped through the parking lot at a breakneck speed, but it wasn't fast enough to miss the images sewn onto the driver's black leather vest. In the center of it was a scythe-wielding reaper, and above it were the words _Sons of Anarchy,_ and below it read _California._

Lala didn't know what was stranger: the fact that a Californian biker actually chose to come to middle-of-nowhere town in North Carolina or the fact that he'd stared at her like he'd known her since she was born. Both thoughts were unsettling.

"You coming, baby?" Charlie asked. In Lala's couple of minutes of hesitation, he'd managed to strip to his boxer briefs and sprawl wantonly on the bed. Wordlessly, Lala cast a glance to the parking lot, then turned towards the object of her desire, shutting the door behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

_She looked just like Tara._ The girl from the hotel raced through Chibs' mind as he sped across the North Carolina countryside. Her alabaster skin, endless legs, and long dark hair flashed in his mind. It was a strange, almost otherworldly kind of feeling, especially as he watched her follow a tan, golden haired god into the hotel. It was Jax and Tara all over again. He shook his head slightly, consciously divesting himself of the memories.

The road to Jax and Tara's cabin wound around the gently rolling Appalachians, and Chibs marveled at the countryside. The lush green hills reminded him of Scotland. It was the closest he'd come to his homeland's majesty since he'd left it over thirty years ago. The pine trees darted in between massive oaks and red maples, and Chibs decided that if he were able to retire one day, North Carolina would be the place he'd want to be.

He laughed to himself. _Retire._ The word was foreign to him. Bikers didn't retire. If anything, they were supposed to feel blessed they didn't die in a fiery crash or in a haze of bullets. As he stared at the mountains, he decided it would be best to enjoy the ride. _Only a few miles,_ he told himself. _Then, I'll be there._ He was anxious to get to a place that didn't feel like WitSec. When he'd driven up to Jax and Tara's perfect little home just the day prior, he saw the stamps of the government agency.

Witness Protection never lingered in clubhouses or ghettos or slums. They were put up in nice, picturesque homes; they were perfect little dwellings for cookie cutter people. Chibs honestly couldn't picture Jax or Tara fitting into the mold. When they left eighteen years prior, he thought that they would be back in no time. Then one year passed, then two—eventually a decade had flown by, and Jax and Tara were nowhere to be found. Had Trinity not been killed, Chibs had no doubt in his mind that Jax and Tara would have truly disappeared forever. As much as his heart ached for the ginger-haired Teller's passing, a small part of him was grateful that his best friend was back in his life.

He slowed the bike as the road turned to gravel. Per Jax's directions, the cabin wasn't far from the main highway. He gingerly drove over the bumps of the dusty backroad. He rounded a corner and almost gasped at the cabin before him. _It looks just like ours,_ he thought. _It's SAMCRO all over again._ He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He led the bike up the hill, and he parked beside Jax's massive Silverado. Killing the engine, he got off the bike and walked towards the cabin.

Before he got to the door, it swung open, and Jax traipsed out. Clad in a black t-shirt and faded Levis. Chibs couldn't help but remember young Jax Teller, clad in his white tees. Glimpses of the young SAMCRO prince were still there; it gleamed in his still youthful blue eyes and his full-faced smile. Still, Chibs saw the fine lines gently etching his forehead. He saw the crinkle of his eyes when he grinned. His full-faced beard was still blonde mixed with fine silver, and his hair was closely cropped. He'd aged far better than Chibs had, but Chibs reasoned, Jax Teller's life was nowhere near what it used to be.

"Brother!" Jax exclaimed as he walked towards his old friend. The pair hugged quickly, then headed inside the cabin. Chibs whistled as he entered. His dark eyes grew big as he glanced around the confines. It wasn't an exact replica of the California cabin by any means, but he could tell that the effort was made to bring back the rustic feel of their former stomping ground. The walls were knotty pine, and they led to high, beautiful ceilings, where two small but pretty skylights allowed the sunlight to enter.

Two huge Aztec patterned blankets flanked a huge stone fireplace, and two dark, impeccably cared for leather couches faced one another. A big, pine coffee table sat in the center of the plush beige carpet.

"Somethin smells amazin," Chibs said. His belly ached with hunger and a hankering for home cooking. Althea was an amazing cook, but it had been almost a month since he'd partaken in anything that wasn't diner or gas station food. He closed his eyes for a moment, surprised at how much he missed his Old Lady.

"Tara's making baked ziti and chicken parm," Jax said, grinning broadly. "She's even thrown together a salad and some garlic bread."

"Where is Mrs. Teller?" Chibs queried with a smile. He watched Jax smile deeper. Chibs knew what it meant to his friend to have Tara finally take his name. It was a damned shame that, just a couple of months later, the Witness Protection Program changed everything for them—including their names. Chibs knew that, behind closed doors, Tara was Mrs. Teller. The thought made him smile with nostalgia.

"She's upstairs," Jax stated. He didn't tell Chibs that she was probably taking a Xanax. His wife was still busy facing her demons. She was far from an addict, but Jax knew his wife was struggling with her old wounds. They'd been ripped open, and ghosts were busy thrashing about within the confines of the soul. She was worried sick. Sleeping was a problem. Staying still was a problem. Life in general was a problem for Tara Knowles Teller, but no one besides Jax would know that.

"Freshening up, aye?" Chibs asked. Jax nodded. Jax heard their bedroom door shut. Jax watched as Tara, as if on cue, drifted down the hallway and down the stairs. A smile was plastered on her lips, but Jax saw the distance in her eyes as she neared them. _She must've taken two,_ he thought.

"Chibs," Tara whispered as she neared. She hugged him for a moment, then she walked over the kitchen. "I made a huge meal for you. Hope you're hungry."

"Want a beer?" Jax asked. Chibs nodded. Jax sauntered over to the fridge and grabbed a Guinness. He walked back and handed it to his friend, who easily cracked it open. Chibs wandered over to the dining room. A massive picture window highlighted the antique oak dining room set. In front of the window was a small buffet, and Chibs was pleased to see pictures of Jax's and Tara's family.

A small black and white photo of all four children was the first he saw. The boys were just as he remembered them—Abel was may have been five or six, and Thomas was still a toddler. The girls were barely one.

The next photo was of Jax and Tara with all four kids. It looked like it should be on a Christmas card. The adults stood in front of the cabin with what appeared to be a pre-pubescent Abel, a young Thomas, and cherubic, sweet Delylah and Ophelia. The boys were both blonde, and one of the girls had dark hair, but he was quiet surprised to see a ginger beauty amongst the Teller children.

The next photo was a more recent one. Just like the one before it, Jax and Tara stood in front of the cabin, but now, all the children surrounded them, and they all looked grown. Abel was Jax's clone. Same blue eyes, same blonde hair, same cocky, challenging expression. Thomas was more introspective, and his face closely mirrored Tara's, even though he had his father's eyes and hair. The redhead was next. Her gray eyes stared through him, and he could see traces of both Gemma and Tara in her fair countenance. Her flaming locks coiled over shoulders as her sweet expression pierced the cameraman's lens.

He sipped his beer as he turned his eyes to the final Teller child, and it took everything he had not to spit the Guinness across the room. _The girl from the hotel._ Quickly, he swallowed the beer, gritting his teeth as he did so. His eyes focused on the pretty brunette in the picture. She was far more demure in that photograph than the girl he'd seen this morning, but he knew that the girl in the picture was the girl with the golden god from before. She had the same fair skin, the same stare, the same beautiful hair. She was Tara's clone.

"There's the girls," Jax said proudly as he walked behind Chibs. "The last time you saw them, they were newborns." Chibs turned in Jax's direction. He debated telling Jax what he'd seen at the hotel that morning, but he thought better of it. This wasn't the time or place.

"Aye," Chibs jaggedly stated. _The last time I saw that one,_ he thought, _she was hot for a shirtless blonde kid._ "Which one is which, Brother?"

"Ophelia is the copper top," Jax proudly declared. "Delylah is more Tara's twin than her sister's." That last statement was finished with a chuckle. "They turned eighteen in February. They're graduating next week. They're heading off to college in the fall." Chibs couldn't believe how fast it'd all passed.

"They're beautiful," Chibs complimented. "I dinna envy ye. One girl and one boy are enough fer me."

It was Jax's turn to choke on his beer.

"Did you say one girl and _one boy_?" Jax asked. Chibs turned to face him. His dark eyes were bottomless.

"Aye, Althea and I have a son," Chibs honestly answered. "He'll be fifteen in August."

Shock penetrated Jax's being. He couldn't believe it. The last interactions he'd seen between Chibs and Jarry were exercises in annoyance and aggravation. _Maybe all the anger was really pent-up desire._ Jax shuddered with the thought. He just couldn't picture it. It was strange.

"What's his name?" Jax asked. Chibs smiled, unable to help himself. He thought of the young boy with Althea's smile and his dark eyes. He was a great kid. _A comfort in my old age_ , Chibs thought happily.

"John Jackson," Chibs whispered. He watched as Jax's eyes welled with tears. "John Jackson Jarry." It was amazing that the bond the two men transcended distance and false death.

"Jarry?" Jax croaked. "Why not Telford?"

"Except for Bobby and Tig, no one knows he's mine," Chibs stated. "Althea and I agreed to that. Not only would it fuck her reputation up, but it'd open Johnny up to death threats and other problems. He just learned I was his Pa on his thirteenth birthday."

Jax's heart broke for his friend. He had spent most of Kerrianne's life away from her, and now he was able to be with his son, but no one could know. Chibs Telford was a loving, kind father, and to not be able to show that was an injustice in Jax's mind.

"Was he okay with that?" Jax asked. Chibs smiled disarmingly. His eyes misted with memories as he nodded.

"Aye," he whispered gruffly. "He said he knew it all along. He was just happy he was right."

"Boys," Tara's voice called. "Supper's ready." Chibs and Jax turned towards the kitchen. Tara held a massive plate of chicken parm, and she motioned for Jax to grab the ziti. Chibs followed Jax, and he grabbed the salad and bread. Together, they brought the food to the table. Jax served while Tara and Chibs sat.

Within minutes, the food was served, and they began eating. Jax sat at the head of the table, and chills rushed down his spine. It brought back images from the huge reaper table that still sat in SAMCRO's church. It took Chibs' breath away. Tara sat to his left, and Chibs to his right. For a while, they sat in silence as they ate, then Chibs began the conversation.

"Yer kids are beautiful, Tara" Chibs murmured through bites. "The girls are stunnin, and Thomas and Abel grew up to be quite the ladykillers."

"Smart and stunning," Tara joked. "The Teller kids have it all. Thomas is graduating eighteen months early from USC. He's graduating next week. And Abel graduated last year Summa Cum Laude from Clemson—now, he's getting married in less than two weeks." Tara's face dissolved into tears.

"Babe," Jax stopped eating. "What's wrong?" Tara stared at him. The sun was setting outside, and the light bathed them in a purple, red, and orange glow. Tara's lips quivered. She'd been much more emotional lately. Every little thing made her weep like a baby. She didn't know if it was all the change or the resurrection of SAMCRO, but for Tara, crying had become more commonplace than not.

"I don't know," she wept. Her hazel eyes were awash with tears. "I should be happy my children are healthy and thriving. I should be delighted to spend the rest of my life with my husband. I should feel safe and comfortable, but I can't feel anything but sorrow."

Jax gripped Tara's hand. He hated seeing her like this. She'd always been the stable and clear-headed one. She'd been his rock for as long as they'd been together, and to see her crumbling under the pressure of the chaos Chibs' arrival had started. Tara grabbed her napkin and blotted her eyes. With a deep breath, she tried to control her tears.

"I shouldna hae come," Chibs stated once more. "Look what I've done."

"No, Chibs," Jax retorted. "You didn't do this. The IRA did this to us. The bastards that killed my sister aren't going to stop there. Who's to say they don't already know we're alive, and they're just biding their time?" Tara's grip tightened around his hand. He knew that was her biggest fear.

"Aye," Chibs returned. "Hae ye given any thought as to what you're going to do next?"

"A little," Jax admitted. "That's why Tara and I wanted you come up here. It's desolate and quiet here, and no one can see us."

"Jax came up with a temporary solution," Tara said quietly. "But it involves you staying here until the end of July." Chibs' eyebrows raised.

"The girls, as you know, are graduating next week. Tommy's college graduation follows a couple of days later, and Abel's wedding is shortly after that. We need you here for all of those things. We need someone with one foot in and one foot out of the law. We need Althea's connections too, to know what we're dealing with."

Chibs nodded his head in understanding.

"Aye Brother, that makes sense," Chibs stated. "I dinna even know if WitSec even realizes I'm here, and that's a sad state of affairs. If it were up to them, the IRA could do whatever they want."

"We'll tell the kids you're a cousin of Tara's if we have to," Jax continued. "You can stay here, so you draw less attention to yourself. The cabin will let you think, help you figure out what the hell is happening. Make sense?" Chibs nodded once more.

"I'll stay for a while longer," Chibs said. "I'll reach out to Althea and see what WitSec knows about this situation. Hopefully, she'll have answers."

Jax nodded. It was settled. Jax looked at his wife. Her tears were dry, but she still looked fragile as hell. Slowly, he relinquished the grasp on her hand and quietly began eating. They sat in silence after that, slowly and carefully eating, each silently praying they'd find the answers.

Chibs didn't know what he was getting into, nor did he care. It felt good caring for Jax after all this time. He'd call Althea after dinner and explain everything. She'd understand. She knew his love for Jax knew no boundaries. His eyes drifted over to the photos he'd just stared at minutes before. The Teller kids stared back at him, and he felt sadness churn his stomach. _I'll figure out what happened,_ he vowed. _I won't let anything happen to you._

As he made his silent promises, his eyes rested on Delylah. Images of her disappearing with the young blonde kid from before flicked through his mind and made him wonder how far gone Jax and Tara's daughter really was. She was almost pure Tara as she stared into the camera, but it was the eyes and the defiance within them that made him think of Gemma. _She's going to be the one that gets us in trouble_ , he silently mused. _Let's just hope she doesn't get us all fucking killed._


	7. Chapter 7

"Luke," the voice was low and measured. "Wake up baby."

Thomas Teller never knew his true name. He'd only been two years old when Jax and Tara entered the Witness Protection Program; he'd never known Thomas Teller. He'd always been Luke Morgan. As his eyes opened to the sound of his name, he rolled to his back and squinted against the brilliant South Carolina sun. Before him, the object of his affection smiled brilliantly, and Thomas, unable to help himself, deeply kissed his love. When the kiss was returned with an almost savage desire, Thomas shuddered and wondered how he got so lucky.

"Good morning to you too," Thomas teasingly whispered. "You ready for today?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." The words were tinged with nervous energy. Thomas sat up.

"William Charles Latrie, I have never known you to be afraid of anything," Thomas' voice was tinged with a hint of laughter and a hint of surprise. He brushed a gentle hand across William's face, and William leaned into the sweet, intimate touch. A rush of love came over Thomas as her stared into his lover's dark eyes.

"Oh, all three names," William smiled. "I must be in trouble now." Thomas rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Seriously," William stated. "Today is a pretty big deal. You're graduating…I'm meeting your parents…"

"And they'll know how absolutely happy you make me," Thomas finished. His pale blue eyes stared deeply into William's ebony ones, and he reached out and gripped William's hand.

"You're not scared?" William asked. He watched the man he loved sit up and stare at nothing at all. Specks of ground quartz glimmered within the red brick walls of William's loft. Sunlight streamed through the sheer, gauzy white curtains. The room had warmed considerably, and a fine sheen of perspiration covered William's caramel skin. He didn't know if it was heat or fear that made him sweat.

Thomas stared ahead, unsure of the answer. _Of course I'm scared,_ he thought. _In fact, I am terrified._ He thought of his parents. He knew them as Eric and Elizabeth Morgan, body shop owners and well-loved members of their tiny North Carolina community. He was born and raised into what he always thought was the perfect family.

 _Two boys, two girls._ Thomas remembered feeling so different growing up. His older brother was the all-star, the stereotypical captain of the football team. Abel Teller was six feet, three inches of wholesome, all-American, blonde hair, blue eyed beauty, and Thomas had always felt a lesser man compared to his brother. His love for art and for certain aesthetics, as well as his lack of interest in anything athletic, always made him a target for Abel's teasing. It was his deep, abiding love for his brother that kept Thomas immune to the good-hearted barbs.

 _He doesn't even know,_ Thomas thought to himself. _Adam has no idea._ He closed his eyes for a moment, completely unaware of how complicated his life truly was. If he'd known Adam was really Abel, the secret of his sexuality, a secret he'd kept from his entire family, would have paled in comparison.

"I am scared," Thomas said quietly. He still stared ahead, and he didn't meet William's eyes as he spoke. "But it doesn't matter. My fear, my questions-they've all lived within me for too long. They deserve the truth. I deserve the truth. _You, my love, you deserve the truth."_ With his last words, Thomas looked at his boyfriend. That word was so strange— _boyfriend._ It sounded juvenile and strange. The man next to him was so much more than that. The only word that made sense was _partner_ , and that is how the two men referred to one another.

"I deserve nothing," William replied. He looked down at the white sheets that covered them both. They were so pristine and clean and pure. He loved the feeling of white linen. The love started when he was a young boy. Growing up in the heat and humidity of southern Louisiana, true, clean white was hard to come by. The dust and grime of New Orleans lingered on everything; it didn't matter. Clothes, rugs, floors, cars—even souls-never came truly clean in the midst of all that filth.

Raised by his ancient grandmother in the wealth of the Garden District, William Charles Latrie was a lover of music, of art, of dance. His Grandmere Bette loved it all too, and he was grateful he had her for as long as he did. Orphaned as a baby, she was the only parent he'd ever known. He had her beautiful caramel skin and dark hair, but his ebony eyes were all his father's. Both his grandmere and his mother had sage green eyes that were a beautiful, vivid contrast to their coloring.

 _Oh Grandmere,_ he thought as he twisted the sheets in his hands. _I wish you were here. You would love Luke._ It was true. Grandmere Bette always knew William's truth. She never looked at him differently because he was gay, and he adored her for it. With her, William felt like he belonged. Everything made sense with her.

"You deserve everything," Thomas whispered. Slowly, he reached over and placed a finger beneath William's chin. He lifted William's face and met his eyes. The love that glimmered within Thomas was palpable, and William couldn't help but grin in response. "You are just pure magic, Will. I love you like crazy."

Without a word, William leaned over and gently kissed Thomas' lips. It was a sweet kiss, a chaste kiss, and Thomas reveled in the jolts of electricity that raced up his spine. When they broke apart, William stood, and Thomas eyed the long line of his lover's frame. Tall and lean, bordering on sinewy, William's stomach rippled above the low slung waist of his flannel pajama pants. His black hair was closely cropped and stood in stark contrast to his warm brown skin. He was the most beautiful thing Thomas had ever seen, and he didn't want to hide his love for him anymore.

"Where do you think you're going?" Thomas mockingly asked. His blue eyes twinkled dangerously from the bed. William stared at his partner, awestruck. With ivory skin and crystal blue eyes, his blonde hair shone with golden lights, William thought his man was true perfection.

"This old man has to cook breakfast for the graduate," William teased. Thomas laughed. _Old man,_ he thought as he giggled. "You're thirty-two, Will, not ninety."

"Still, you need breakfast, kid," he said lovingly. Thomas beamed. "You get the first shower, love. Bacon and eggs?"

"You know it," Thomas responded. "Thank you babe."

"You're welcome," William's voice trailed behind him as he walked out of the room. Thomas sat for a moment, completely amazed at his good fortune. He stood slowly and worked the kinks out of his bones as he stretched. He caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror, and he was shocked. Gone was the boy that moved into William's apartment a year ago. That person was long gone. He was a kid then—and now, in the place of that kid was a strong, self-assured man. He'd gained a couple of pounds, but his body was hard and strong. His shoulders and chest had broadened and filled out, and Thomas was a little surprised when he saw traces of his older brother.

 _Adam._ The thought of older brother made his stomach nervous. He was glad his mother and father were coming to this affair alone. The twins were off to Myrtle Beach celebrating their high school graduation, and Adam Morgan was in the final days of bachelorhood. The entire family would come together for the wedding in a little over a week, and Thomas had every intention of bringing Will to the occasion. He took a deep breath.

 _I just pray Mom and Dad understand,_ he thought as he walked into the bathroom. Stripping down to nothing, he turned the shower on, and steam instantaneously filled the small space. He jumped in the shower and began scrubbing. _Will they get it? Will they hate me?_ Questions loomed in his mind. Deep within his soul, he had a feeling his mother already knew the secret, but he was sure his father had no clue.

The shower ended quickly. Thomas dried off and threw on a fresh pair of pajama bottoms. He rushed downstairs and joined Will for breakfast. He gobbled down the eggs and bacon with a voracious appetite. He watched as Will drifted off upstairs for his own shower, and he followed so he could get dressed.

The sound of Will's stunning tenor soared above the sounds of the shower, and as Thomas pulled his dark slacks on, he smiled. Will was as extraordinarily talented as he was handsome. Thomas loved the sound of his voice. Carefully, he pulled a wifebeater over his muscled frame. The shower turned off, and he heard Will singing still. Thomas pulled a white button-up on. He had just finished buttoning it and began tying a beautiful burgundy tie around his neck when Will emerged.

Clad in fitted black slacks and shirt matching Thomas' tie, Will emerged. Thomas sucked in an amazed breath, and Will blushed.

"It never ceases to amaze me how quickly—and how well—you dress," Thomas laughed, and Will's heart tightened. Images of an impeccably dressed Grandmere Bette infiltrated his brain. All the style he had, he'd learned from her. "Help me with this." Thomas was struggling helplessly with a Windsor knot. Will took immediately took over and straightened it. They both turned and looked in the mirror.

"We are quite the beautiful couple," Thomas whispered admiringly.

"Indeed," Will returned.

Within minutes, the shoes were on, the cap and gown were in Thomas' hands, and they were off.

"Here's to telling the truth," Thomas whispered low.

"May it set us free," Will finished. Thomas blinked. He didn't think Will had heard him, but he smiled, elated that he was heard.

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"I hate fucking suits," Jax grumbled uncomfortably. Tara turned her hazel eyes in his direction, unsure of whether she wanted to laugh at her husband or kill him. She chose a low chuckle of laughter. Jax grumbled some more, but he turned his eyes to his beautiful wife. Dressed in a soft lavender confection, Tara looked considerably younger than her fifty years. Her long dark hair was loose and fell in pretty waves about her shoulders. They'd already seen a beaming Thomas walk across the stage. Now, the Dean stood proudly handing out the last of the degrees.

"Shh," she whispered low. The last graduate crossed the stage, and the Dean walked over to the podium. Waiting for the last person to find their seat again, he smiled broadly as he announced into the microphone.

"To quote Nelson Mandela," he stated excitedly, "Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. To my students, please keep making this world a better place!" He paused dramatically and smiled. He waited a moment. The students grew antsy and began to whoop and holler. The dean spoke once more, a broad smile plastered across his face. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the University of South Carolina's Graduating Class!"

The crowd erupted in applause, and the students stood and cheered. An onslaught of caps were tossed in the air as the parents and onlookers stood, and both crowds dissipated as families tried to find their beloved graduates.

"Mom! Dad!" the familiar sound of their son's voice filled Jax and Tara's ears. Tara had been searching the crowd for Thomas' golden hair while Jax, content to have her lead, followed. He hated crowds like these. No matter how much he'd changed over the last eighteen years, he was still Jax Teller. He still always watched his back. He still constantly protected his family from danger. In a place like this, there was no protection, and Jax felt odd, like the proverbial sitting duck.

"Baby!" Tara squealed. She rushed over to Thomas, who hugged her tight, lifting her off the ground as he did so. "Oh my God! Put me down!" Tara's laughter rang out over the din of everyone around them. Jax stopped and stared at them, overcome with emotion. Just days before, they'd watched Opie and Lala walk in their high school graduation. It was a beautifully painful moment. His girls were pretty much grown, and now his Thomas was a college graduate. The picture he and Tara painted was one that caused tears to mist over his eyes.

"They grow so fast, Jackie Boy," Chibs' voice reverberated in his ears. Just days before the girls' graduation, they sat on the cabin's front porch, talking about their kids. After informing Jax of his secret son with Althea Jarry, Jax couldn't help but wonder about Kerrianne.

"She's shacked up wi some English blowhard," Chibs laughed. "But he's good to her. They're getting married soon, I think—and after that, grandbabies are sure to folla, right?"

Chibs' words resonated within Jax and struck a chord in his soul. As he walked towards Thomas and Tara, the thought of grandkids made him both a little excited and a little nervous. _Hell,_ Jax reasoned, _I could be a Grandpa at any moment. Abel will be married next week—and Thomas will probably settle down—_

"Dad!" Thomas proudly smiled as Jax neared. The two men embraced tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, son," Jax murmured in Thomas' ear, and as they broke apart, he saw tears in Thomas' eyes.

"Thank you, Dad," Thomas choked out.

"Luke!" the sound of Will's voice filled the air. He stood just few feet away. He walked towards them, a beautiful smile stretched across his face. Thomas motioned for the man to come closer. When he joined the group, Jax's face immediately turned to stone. Tara was much more hospitable. She smiled as he neared and stood next to Thomas.

"Mom, Dad," Thomas exhaled giddily. He nodded towards the young man.

Tara smiled prettily and extended her hand. Will took it and shook it firmly. Tara noted that his palm was cool and clammy, which was strange, considering the heat of the day. Jax shook his hand as well, his eyes boring holes into Will's soul. Will felt a chill rush through him—no one had ever made him feel so exposed. The young man's heart hammered in his chest. Terror sank into his fingers and toes.

"Hi," he said quietly. Tara barely heard him above the chaos, but his look was unmistakable. She'd seen it on many of Delylah's potential suitors. _He's nervous,_ she thought. She watched as Thomas moved closer to him. _Oh sweet Jesus, my Thomas is—_

"Mom and Dad," Thomas interrupted her thoughts. "I wanted you to meet Will. He's a very special person in my life."

"Yeah, he's real special," Jax whispered in Tara's ear. She elbowed him in the ribs. _Shut the fuck up, Jax,_ her eyes warned, and Jax stopped. He turned his eyes towards both Thomas and Will, and he was shocked to see them holding hands. Thomas was visibly shaking, as was poor Will, and Tara's heart went out to them. She could tell they were petrified.

"Is Will—your-" Tara stammered. "Is he your boyfriend, Luke?" Once again, Thomas' WitSec name was not what she wanted to call him. Right now, standing before them, so raw, so exposed, she just wanted to cradle her Tommy and tell him she loved and accepted him and his beloved—no matter what.

Jax, on the other hand, was a different issue altogether. Tara looked at her husband, and she could tell he was a mix of shock, of fear, of confusion. She reached for his hand and laced her finger through his, just like Will did to Thomas. They stood in the midst of thousands, but this moment was as private as it was surreal.

"Is it true, son?" Jax whispered. "Is Will your—"

"Yeah, Dad," Thomas replied. Tara saw the agitation rise in her younger son. "He is. William Latrie is my boyfriend. My man. My partner. And I love him."

Tara held her breath as she stared at Jax. She could see Jax struggle as every possible emotion –anger, sadness, loss, love, pain—crossed his face. Her heart thudded in her throat. She was unsure of what to expect from him. The silence spoke volumes, and Thomas was visibly hurt.

"I'm gay, Dad," Thomas whispered brokenly. "And there isn't anything you can do about it." Jax watched as Will, his eyes teary as well, draped a protective and loving arm over his son's shoulders. Images of Tig and Venus played over and over in his head at first, but as Will pulled Thomas closer into his embrace, Jax realized that love didn't care about gender or race or any of that. Love only cared about love, and the love Thomas and Will shared looked just as precious as his love for Tara did. He walked through fire for his wife, and judging by the look Will and Thomas shared, it looked as though they'd travel through fire and brimstone for one another.

"I don't want to do anything about it, son," Jax returned. Tara's eyes closed. She was preparing herself for her husband's verbal tirade. "I am as proud of you today as I have ever been. I don't care who you love. I just _want_ you to love. I want you to love like your mother and I do."

"So you accept this?" Will spoke up. "You accept us?" Jax's lips tightened. Tara could tell he was struggling, but she could also see he was trying. His love for Thomas far outweighed any potential issues the kid's lifestyle brought for his old-fashioned old man.

"As long as you love him like crazy and never waiver in your devotion, I will accept you," Jax said. He was astounded by his words, as was Tara. But they were true. In a few short minutes, Jax Teller had let go of any strangeness he felt in favor of the love he and Tara shared. It'd conquered so much already, and he wanted nothing more than to have his children have the same.

"I don't think that won't be an issue at all," Thomas smiled. He leaned into Will, content with his choice. Jax grabbed Tara's hand. He meant every word he said, but he was terrified. This uncharted territory was one they'd navigate together. _We got this babe,_ she said without saying a word. _We'll make this work._ His eyes met hers, and he was grateful for her. It was a beautiful thing to be understood without saying a word, and as he watched Thomas kiss Will's forehead, he was comforted to see that his son was on his way to having the same thing.


	8. Chapter 8

_Gold lights._ They were bright, but not so bright that they were blinding or painful. As Abel Teller squinted against the dwindling July sunset, with its mix of hazy vermillion, bruised violet, and burnt orange, all he could feel was peace. It resonated in his bones and bled into his heart. An open, almost intoxicated smile spread easily over his lips, and the only thing that he could think of was her. In less than an hour, Hannah Sinclair would be his wife. It was an amazing prospect, one he'd be grateful for forever.

"You look drunk as hell, Brother," Thomas said quietly. They'd been standing in their parents' backyard for a while, neither really speaking. They used a bottle of Jack Daniels to do the talking instead. The burn eased the anxiety and the strangeness. Thomas couldn't believe he had ever been best friends with the man standing in front of him. Thomas' brother was six feet, three inches of All American goodness, with a rugged jawline and disarming blue eyes. His entire life Thomas had only known him as _Adam._ Even though he didn't know the truth, there was a part of him, a part he'd never even spoken to Will about; it was a part of him that always knew the boy he'd always known as _Adam Morgan_ was not the person standing before him. Thomas saw Paul Newman in Abel; he saw Marlon Brando. The wholesome face belied an aching poet trapped in the confines of the notions of big brother, firstborn, football, college graduate hero.

 _Now you're getting married. You're fucking getting married._ A slow, sardonic smile played across Thomas' features as he took another sip of the half-gone bottle. Irony mixed with the heat of the liquor as it fell like rain in his gut. He passed the bottle to Abel. Abel held a hand up, indicating he'd had enough.

"Nah, Luke," he whispered. "I'm only one shot away from making a damn fool of myself at my own wedding." The low Southern crackle of Abel's baritone made Thomas smile. They all had accents, but their parents never did. It had been the source of many jokes growing up. Abel's accent deepened with his level intoxication. Right now, he was about a level one Waylon Jennings. Another drink would make him Johnny Cash, easily.

"Suit yourself," Thomas teased as he took another sip. His heart pounded within his chest. At Tara's urging, Will would be joining him tonight. Thomas hadn't quite decided whether his lover would be introduced to his brother as such, or if Will would be just a _friend_.

"He'll understand, Luke," his mother's voice reverberated in his ears, and he closed his eyes. It killed him to even consider the idea of Will being anything than his partner in public. They'd been living for so long out of the closet; these steps backward felt foreign and strange. Will understood it all. He never questioned it or wavered in his devotion. Flashbacks of Jax's words played on repeat: _As long as you love him like crazy and never waiver in your devotion, I will accept you._ Will was passing the test more and more every single day.

"What's her name?" Abel's voice broke through Thomas' thoughts.

"What?" Thomas was shocked.

"The girl that's making you smile like that," Abel said gently. "Who is she? Is she here tonight?"

Thomas inhaled deeply. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his brother's intuition. _Now is the time. I could just make it super easy on myself and tell the truth now._ Thomas took another slug of whiskey as he debated. _What if he doesn't accept him? What if he doesn't accept me?_ The thought was unbearable. As much as he hated to admit it, Thomas knew Abel's opinion meant more to him than his parents' did.

"What do you think they're talking about, Jax?" Tara whispered. They'd stood in the living room for a while, unsure of whether to interrupt their sons. The door was open, and the traditional screen door buffered little. Even though they could hear the rumblings of their conversation from outside, they opted to watch. It was a bittersweet view. Fresh off their long weekend graduation celebration in South Carolina, Thomas had followed them home. Thomas had spent plenty of time with them as a family in the festivities leading up to the wedding, but when it came to any one-on-one time, Thomas chose to stay away from it. The truth was, he missed Will.

"I don't know," Jax stated simply. Worry churned in his gut, but he found comfort in the lack of red faces and fists. He shifted uncomfortably. The navy suit fit him perfectly, but for a man used to coveralls or jeans, the beauty of cut, color, and proportion was lost. A rich creamy ivory shirt peeked out from beneath the jacket, and to his relief, Hannah and Abel had decided to keep their mountain nuptials semi-casual. No ties. Jax smiled slightly and caught his wife's eye.

"You're so goddamned gorgeous," Tara murmured. Jax turned his eyes on her. Her thick mahogany hair was swept in a lavishly curled updo. She wore a stunning golden gown sprinkled with sparkling crystals. The gown draped beautifully over her left shoulder and fell to the floor in a straight, glittering sheath.

"And you put every woman to shame," Jax whispered back, dropping a hot kiss on her brow. "I can't wait to get you alone. After all this wedding nonsense, you're mine, Tara Teller." She grinned for a moment, and that all but dissipated when she turned her eyes back to her boys.

"His name is—Will?" Abel's voice almost cracked with his brother's revelation. Thomas took another sip of Jack as he nodded. Abel's blue eyes were incredulous.

"His name is William Charles Latrie," Thomas slurred slightly. Abel didn't miss the ember that caught fire within his brother's eyes. "And I love him."

"How long has this been going on?" Abel questioned.

"Since Freshman year at USC," Thomas replied. Abel gently pried the bottle out of his little brother's hands and took another sip. He never once suspected Thomas' secret, but he wasn't sure that it mattered. Abel knew guys that shied away from all things gay, after all, he reasoned, it was the South, but he'd never subscribed to that doctrine.

"Wow," Abel exhaled. It was a lot to take in. The sun was sinking lower against the horizon. He'd soon be in a car on the way to his beautiful bride to be. Within the next two hours, he'd be married to the girl he'd loved since he was sixteen. He couldn't think of anything better. To think of his brother having to hide his love was unfathomable.

"Wow? That's all you can say?" The flame in Thomas' eyes threatened to turn into a full-fledged fire.

"Goddamn, Luke, does it always have to be about the reaction? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Seriously?" Thomas' teeth were clenched.

"I'm not saying it's wrong," Abel stated. "It's not. It's just-a lot. In less than an hour, I'll be married to a girl I've felt like I've loved my whole life—and you tell me your one true love is a man? There is nothing wrong with it. If you're happy, that's all I want for you, no matter who you love. I hate that you felt you had to hide it—and I hate that you didn't tell me before this fucking moment. "

Thomas looked at his brother, shocked at his response. Every time he thought he had his family figured out, they surprised him. First his father, now his brother. He was almost speechless. "I just—I didn't want to disappoint anyone."

"Your timing sucks, Brother—but I have to say that, no matter what you think, if you truly love him, then that isn't a disappointment," Abel said. "True love never is. It hurts like hell sometimes, but if the ride is worth it, it never disappoints. " Thomas grinned. _There's the poet,_ he thought. _How optimistic. How sweet._ His thoughts stopped abruptly, and for a moment, Thomas' heart ached a little. _The only reason you think that way is because you haven't been broken._ As he stared at his older brother, Thomas' eyes were haunted by broken hearts. It was something that lovestruck Abel missed.

"I'd like to think that's what it is," Thomas carefully replied. "I've never—never really felt like this. When I'm with Will, it's like nothing hurts anymore."

Abel eyed his brother, knowing that the liquor made his tongue looser than normal. What he couldn't wrap his mind around was the pain Thomas always seemed to carry around. Abel didn't understand it. They'd grown up in the same family, lived essentially the same basic life. To Abel's knowledge, Thomas had never been abused or mistreated, but as he stared at Thomas and fully comprehended the confession of his sexuality-today, of all days-Abel realized that Thomas was better at keeping secrets than he'd ever realized.

"When do I get to meet him?" Abel asked. Thomas' blue eyes lit with hesitation, but the words fell out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

"Mama told me to have him come." Thomas sounded like a small boy again. Abel's eyes widened with the revelation. Thomas didn't see his older brother's jaw slightly clench. _Leave it to Mama,_ he thought. _She always wants things in the open._ Abel had always been taught that secrets eat a family alive. Trust was the foundation of a happy home. He'd watched his parents, and he knew how happy they were. He wanted a love like that with Hannah.

"I can't wait to meet him," Abel responded, then his eyes grew wide. "Do the twins know?"

"They will soon," Tara's voice broke into the conversation. She'd managed to walk, undetected, over to the screen door. Abel and Thomas turned to her.

"You look beautiful, Mama," Thomas breathed.

"You do," Abel agreed. She smiled in thanks.

"It's time to go, son," Tara choked out. Tears glistened in her eyes. Abel nodded and walked towards his mother. Thomas followed. Clad in identical navy suits to Jax's, Tara couldn't help but to marvel at her boys. They were so unbelievably handsome. A lump pushed into her throat as all the events of the last month hit her. _The girls are going to college. Thomas graduated college. Abel is getting married._ She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands in an effort to keep her tears from falling. _Chibs is back. The IRA may want to kill us all._ She pushed the thought out of her head. She couldn't think of her fears, not today. _My baby is getting married._

"You ready, son?" Jax's voice was slightly strained too, but he persevered. Abel nodded.

"Best man, are you ready?" Abel asked Thomas. For a moment, the previous conversation had fully sank into Thomas, and Abel could see genuine gratitude plastered itself on his face. The love that flowed from him was unmistakable, and Tara felt more at ease. She'd worried about the announcement, about the timing, and most of all, about Abel's reaction. Like his father, Abel had managed to surprise her. She watched as he laughed at Thomas. His baby brother swayed ever-so-slightly. "On a scale of one to ten, how wasted are you?" Abel questioned.

"About a four, with solid potential for a downgrade, depending on the mountain traffic," Thomas replied honestly. If the traffic cooperated, they could do fifty or sixty miles an hour as they made the steep climb upward. That would render Thomas' stomach to mush.

"You have the rings?" Jax asked. Thomas patted his jacket pocket and nodded.

"A best man is always prepared," Thomas drawled, then he blushed, humbled. "Thank you for considering me your best man."

"Always, Brother," Abel replied with a smile. "Let's go." The Teller boys walked ahead and ushered out the door. Tara stayed behind, unsure of what to do.

 _Maybe if I stay right here, this moment will just stop,_ she thought. _Maybe I can hold on to the good for a while longer. Abel and Thomas will still be boys, Delylah and Ophelia will still be babies, and Jax and I will just rely on one another._ She closed her eyes. _Charming._ She thought of their hometown with a little nostalgia. _At least there, I never worried about you growing up. I never had time. I could only worry about keeping you alive every day._ She inhaled deeply and fought back the tears.

"We gotta do this, babe," Jax's statement was quiet but firm. "It's time to let him go." Tara nodded. Without uttering another word, Jax and Tara followed their boys out the door, completely sure that, once they returned home, life would never be the same again.


	9. Chapter 9

Hannah Sinclair was five feet, five inches of exotic, otherworldly beauty. Encased in tight ivory satin with an overlay of intricate lace of the same shade, the young women surrounding her drew a collective sigh of both appreciation and admiration as her mother placed a delicate necklace about her neck.

"This was your grandmother's," Sarah Sinclair jaggedly whispered as she fastened the spider web thin silver chain to Hannah's swanlike neck. Her eyes lingered on the carefully tattooed words on her daughter's caramel shoulder.

 _To Thine Own Self Be True._ Sarah took a breath. Like Tara before her, she couldn't believe this day had arrived. Hannah released her thick, jet black hair and allowed it to fall in perfect waves down her back. The innocent ivory of her gown was a stunning contrast against her devilish dark hair and sinfully sweet brown skin. She was the perfect mix of coifed and undone, of hippy and fashionista, and Sarah Sinclair was very proud of the woman she'd raised.

"My brother is one lucky man," Lala teased. "Look at that body!" Hannah's gray eyes snapped open as she blushed and giggled. Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Hannah had been dating Adam Morgan for seven years. He was a good, strong boy, and he came from an amazing family. The relationship she and her husband had formed with Eric and Elizabeth Morgan was a good one.

Sarah Sinclair didn't know Eric and Elizabeth were Jax and Tara. In her world, the world married to Silver Spring's most well-known physician, things like the Witness Protection Program didn't exist, nor was it a secret Jax or Tara felt comfortable sharing with anyone. Jax had only entrusted it to Chibs, and he'd come from Charming. He'd dwelled in the hell they'd escaped. For Sarah, a picture-perfect housewife and mother, it was not a world she'd ever needed or wanted to know.

"That sure as hell ain't no teacher's body," Opie whispered in her sister's ear, and Lala couldn't help but laugh. They were dressed in the same shade of navy that their brothers and father wore, but their dresses were identical fit and flare that ended just below their knees. Both sisters had the height to pull off the look, and for the first time since Kindergarten, they enjoyed matching one another. The only contrast was between their hairstyles. Opie's fiery locks had been coaxed into a high, slick, glossy ponytail. She looked almost sophisticated, while Lala favored a demure chignon. It was strange for both of them to see the other look so—grown up.

"You look gorgeous, honey," Sarah smiled as she dabbed at the corners of her dark eyes. Like Hannah, she sported a natural dark tan. Like Tara, she'd chosen a golden frock, but hers was a stunning, rich brocade that ended just above the knee. Standing only five feet tall without her sky-high heels, a long gown like Tara's would overwhelm her. A tight, half-sleeved lace bolero covered her otherwise bare shoulders. Her long, golden hair was piled high on her head. She was pure class and dignity, but everyone expected that of the doctor's wife.

"You do baby," a dark baritone bubbled over the hen party surrounding Hannah. Her eyes widened as her father, Dr. James Sinclair, entered the room. Opie and Lala both practically swooned as he passed. Dr. Sinclair was one of the most handsome men in town. If there was a woman within a foot of either the good doctor or Jax, and she'd be hard-pressed to decide who was hotter. Standing just under six feet tall, James Sinclair was raven haired and dark eyed, with a beautiful square jawline, which he kept cleanly shaven.

Unlike Jax, James looked more than comfortable in his expertly tailored navy suit. He opted for a tie, even though Hannah insisted he didn't need to. He wore them so much in his professional life that he felt naked without it. As he passed the twins, it was everything Lala could do to not stare. He was definitely old enough to be her father, and she reasoned, it would be in bad taste to hit on your brother's _married_ father-in-law.

"You are stunning," James whispered as he beamed in Sarah's direction. Lala sighed. Even if she made a pass, nothing would come from it. It was obvious by the stare the married couple shared that the love was still strong. "Both my girls are just—beautiful." Sarah smiled beautifully back at her husband.

"I have one more surprise before we head out," James whispered. He didn't say anything as he broke away from Hannah and walked towards the door. In one fluid motion, the doctor opened it, and the room fell silent. A tall, uniformed Marine stood in the doorway. Opie watched as all color drained from Hannah's face as she stared ahead. Her lips trembled and her eyes flooded with tears. To Opie's amazement, the tears stayed firmly lodged in Hannah's eyes.

"Victor?" The bride's voice was barely a whisper, then it became a cry. "Victor!" Opie heard Lala's breath catch as recognition dawned in her brain. _Her brother. That's Hannah's brother._

Almost five years Hannah's senior, Victor Sinclair joined the Marines at eighteen. Hellbent on serving his country, he was deployed more than he'd been home. He'd joined just two years after Hannah had come into their lives. Neither Lala nor Opie really remembered him. If he visited, the time was short-lived, but Abel had always been there in some capacity, but the extended family hadn't seen much of the Sinclair's rogue military son since he'd left.

He was his mother's image: tall, tanned, and dark eyed. Beneath his hard framed white service cap was a cleanly shaven head. His smile was brilliant as he scooped Hannah up and swung her around.

"I don't know how I'm not crying," Hannah happily cried as Victor carefully placed her on the floor.

"You're a true Southern Belle," Victor replied. "Nothing's gonna make you a mess on your wedding day. Not even a crazy big brother!" Hannah giggled. James and Sarah came up from behind and hugged their son. Lala and Opie felt strange intruding on the family moment. They didn't even realize they were holding hands as they watched the mini-family reunion.

"How did you-?"

"We have plenty of time for questions after the wedding, darlin," Victor said quietly.

"You could always ride—"

"I have a car," Victor countered smoothly. Hannah, so shocked by her sibling's presence, didn't question anything else.

"We'll talk after," she said excitedly. She reached out and grabbed her brother's hand. "I'm just so glad to see you. I didn't think you'd be here." She stood on tiptoe and kissed her brother's cheek. Opie watched as the older Sinclair blushed deeply. The color was attractive on him.

"Why wouldn't he be here?" Lala whispered in Opie's ear. Opie shrugged, just as perplexed by the presence of the new, unknown Sinclair as Lala was. The air around the SInclairs had tensed, and that tension was palpable as James turned to Hannah.

"Are you ready, baby?" he asked. Hannah nodded.

Without being asked, Opie sprang to action and grabbed Hannah's bouquet. As she pushed it into her soon-to-be sister-in-law's hands, the older girl met her eyes. Hannah smiled gratefully as the tightly bound spray of blood red roses were all but shoved into her hands. Opie's lack of tact spread to her actions; she was raw and unfiltered, but she would give her heart so freely.

"Love you, Op," Hannah's voice trembled.

"Love you, Hannah Banana," Opie almost cried. Images of a sixteen year old Hannah and she and Lala as eleven year old twins flooded her. _It all went too fast,_ she thought. _Can we just slow down?_ Opie looked at Dr. Sinclair, her gray eyes questioning.

"Go ahead, Cait," he chuckled. "Hannah looks like she needs a hug right now."

Without asking the bride's permission, Ophelia took her future sister into her arms. She felt Hannah relax immediately. Out of the twins, Hannah loved both, but Opie just held a special place in her heart. There was no tough-girl façade like Lala. While Hannah knew Lala loved her like blood, she also knew Opie would be the girl that would jump in harm's way just to save her. She could tell Opie things she'd never tell Lala.

"Alright y'all," Sarah gently pried them apart with her sweet Southern lilt. "We gotta get to the vineyard. The sun is gonna set soon." Reluctantly, Opie broke free from Hannah and carefully wiped her tears away. She turned to Lala, who looked like a mixture of sad, hurt, and slightly jealous. The dark-haired twin recovered quickly, not wanting Opie to see any emotion.

The next seconds bled into minutes, and Hannah Sinclair couldn't even focus. Everything was a blur: the careful walk down her parents' stairs, the ushering out to the limo, the ride to the venue. She knew it should have all taken around forty-five minutes, but when the car came to a halt, Hannah's stomach dropped. The bridal party left the car, then her father, then her mother. The butterflies in her belly threatened to smuggle her away as she stepped out of the car. Opie and Lala made quick work of adjusting and fixing Hannah's gown, and as everything fell into place, a calm flooded Hannah.

"Oh God, Hannah Banana." It was Lala's turn to gush. "You're just-everything."

Tears filmed over Hannah's eyes as she clutched Lala's hand. "I love you, Lala. I can't wait to be a part of your family." She smiled openly as she hooked her arm into her father's. The bridal party advanced towards the entrance of the vineyard Hannah and Abel had chosen. A rustic, but beautiful old chateau nestled in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Brandenburg Winery was a stunning, small jewel amidst the rolling hills. It was the perfect setting for the small, completely non-traditional wedding.

The sound of heels clicked across the stone walkway, but as they clacked away, Opie saw Hannah suddenly stop. It was as if fear had paralyzed her, rendering her unable to move. The small crowd of guests was almost too much for her to handle. Hannah always hated standing in front of people, no matter what the size of the group. She couldn't explain it, but it was a real, visceral fear. The thought of talking in front of all of them made her heart flutter uncontrollably. Her body shivered as she walked towards the stone corridor where the rest of the group waited.

"Baby, we gotta get you in position," Sarah, ever the hostess, said quietly. "You're gonna be okay. Adam won't let anything happen to you." The soaring lilt of fiddles, guitars, and banjos playing _Pachelbel's Canon_ filled the air. Sarah's eyes filled with panic. That meant that the groom's side was in the process of being seated. Luckily, the entrance wasn't far. She grabbed Victor's hand and tried to lead the way, but Victor pried his hand out of her grasp. He followed the group to the small stone alcove where everyone was waiting. The groom was safely at the altar as people walked down the aisle. Jax and Tara were already seated.

Just on the other side of the stone corridor were a handful of close friends and family. No more than forty guests had come to the wedding. The kids wanted it that way. Neither Hannah nor Abel wanted their marriage to be a town spectacle. The vineyard was just isolated enough, and it was chosen for that reason. In the beginning of the wedding planning, Sarah had been quite upset by that. She wanted a lavish, crazy party. Now, standing by her son, she was grateful she'd listened to her daughter's wishes. Seeing Hannah quake with fear made her realize that anything more than forty would have been a mistake.

"I'm glad you could make it, son," Sarah said softly. She didn't look at him. She kept her eyes staring forward.

"I'm only here for Hannah and Adam," Victor returned. "I'll be on the next flight to California by tomorrow night. I'll play nice for her sake, not for yours."

A knot lodged itself within Sarah's throat, but she didn't allow herself to cry. Instead, she just focused on the music and the walk ahead. As she prayed that no one else heard his words, they began the walk to her seat.

Lala and Opie went into position. They stood side-by-side, just as Victor and Sarah had; neither one of them wanted to walk alone. Hannah loved the idea of them walking together. She'd balked at tradition to have two bridesmaids to her groom's one groomsman, and now she was messing with the status quo once more by allowing her bridesmaids to walk together. Slowly, the twin beauties walked forward. Before Hannah knew it, they were at the end of the aisle, and it was her turn.

"You ready, darlin'?" Dr. Sinclair asked the bride. With a disarming, shaky smile, Hannah nodded.

"I got this," she murmured. Hannah's father nodded and locked arms with her. The strains of _Here Comes the Bride_ swelled, bluegrass style, into the night. Hannah and her father rounded the dimly lit stone corridor and made their way out to the courtyard.

The sight took Hannah's breath away. The first thing she saw was a sea of candlelight. Ivory candles of all shape and size illuminated the gray stone of the courtyard. Strings of golden lights crossed overhead between the rooftop of the chateau and the massive stone fountain at the end of the aisle. Her eyes rested on the guests as she walked; she wanted to save her groom's face for last. Smile after smile greeted her, and Hannah felt overwhelmed by the love she felt.

As she neared the end of the aisle, her eyes locked with Tara's and Jax's eyes for a moment. Both of them returned her gaze with pride. She smiled broadly and turned her eyes to her mother, who was making a valiant effort not to cry. Victor stood by her side, but his gaze was unreadable.

They stopped. Hannah turned her stare to Abel. He'd never looked more handsome. His eyes beamed with adoration as she took her place by his side.

"You look incredible," Abel whispered. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and she reached up to wipe away.

"Who gives this woman away?" the minister asked aloud. All eyes fell on Dr. Sinclair.

"Her mother and I do," James calmly stated. Satisfied with the answer, the minister motioned for everyone to be seated. James pivoted on his heel and took his place with his wife.

"Hannah and Adam want to thank all of you for coming tonight." The minister's voice echoed. "Their love is precious, and that is what they wanted to focus on." The bride and groom shared a glance. "And in the spirit of that, they have chosen to write their own vows. Hannah will begin."

Opie leapt forward with Hannah's vows. Shakily, the bride opened them, and as she looked down, her hands shook more.

"Adam," her voice trembled. "I have loved you since that first day in homeroom. At sixteen years old, I knew that you were the one. I know it sounds crazy—it's absolutely crazy. You're not supposed to meet your soulmate in high school, but I did." Tears filmed over her eyes, and while it appears that Hannah was a bride overwhelmed with love, Abel knew better. Her eyes held sheer terror.

"Sounds like us," Jax whispered in Tara's ear. She reached out and intertwined her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It was the most comfortable place in the world, after all. Hannah looked up from her paper and caught her beloved's eyes. There was barely a sliver of space between them, and all she wanted was to fall into Abel's arms. She hated speaking in public. It terrified her. Abel, knowing this, reached out and gently grasped her hand.

"I met you when I was a kid," Abel interrupted. He watched as the fear in Hannah's eyes eased. She lowered the paper, written vows forgotten. "And I knew too. This wasn't some fling or high school romance. This _is_ the real thing. This _is_ forever. I promised you that on your mama's porch swing on prom night, and I promise you now: I will love you until I die, Hannah Sinclair. Beyond that too. I promise to be fair, to be spontaneous. I will witness and appreciate your beauty every single day, both inside and out. It is an honor and a privilege to be able to soon say _you are my wife._ "

"And I promise," Hannah interjected with , "To be your cheerleader and your biggest fan. I will hold you up when you need it. I will try to remember we are both fiercely independent and fiercely stubborn, so I will let you hold me up too, even when it's hard for me to be weak. I will cherish that just as much as I treasure our loving hearts and our twin souls. You are my best friend, my lover, my love, my one and only constant. One day, you will be my baby's father, and I know that, if I go first, you will be the one holding my hand so I'm not alone. I treasure you and promise to love and honor you, every single day of my life, _my husband_."

The bride and groom didn't notice the sea of tears they'd caused amongst the guests. They only saw one another as the minister went on with the ceremony. He spoke of the symbolic meaning of the rings, and as he called for them, both Opie and Thomas stepped forward. Opie carefully handed a black titanium band to Hannah, while Thomas handed Abel a delicate plain platinum band. Within seconds, the couple had placed the rings on one another, before the minister had time to tell them to do so. This caused a ripple of laughter through the small crowd. Tara couldn't help but remember her own rushed brothel wedding. _How different this is,_ she thought. _But the love is just the same._ Of that she had no doubt.

"Well, it looks like the bride and groom beat me to the punch," the minister joked. Abel smiled at his bride, and she sparkled back. With a good-natured eye roll, the minister said aloud, "I can't even believe I am asking this, but do you just want to skip the rest?" Abel and Hannah eyed one another, and it only took a mere second for them to nod. The crowd laughed harder. Even Sarah Sinclair giggled. The love on the couple's sweet faces just couldn't be denied. It was infectious.

"The vows are read, the rings are exchanged. I guess that's all we need, right folks?" the clergyman asked the crowd, who buzzed in agreement. "Well, then, without further ado," he bellowed. "Dear Adam, kiss your bride already!"

The crowd cheered as Adam carefully took Hannah's face in his hands. Tara's breath caught. It was like she was watching a slow motion video of her and Jax twenty-three years ago. It was the same careful, passionate kiss her one true love had given her, and chills raced down her spine as those same lips touched the side of her neck now. As Abel kissed his bride, Jax kissed his, and emotions overwhelmed Tara's soul. _I am so unbelievably lucky._

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, Adam and Hannah Morgan!" Another thunderous applause reigned as the happy couple broke their kiss and sped down the aisle as husband and wife.

The chairs emptied, and everyone followed the happy couple to reception room down the hallway. As the outdoor space emptied, no one noticed the tall, leather clad Scotsman standing in the shadows, and they certainly didn't see the tears in his eyes. Chibs thought it better to be a silent presence. He never wanted to raise any questions, so when Tara and Jax explained that the wedding would be a night one, he was grateful for the cover.

The strings and the fiddles rang throughout the vineyard, and Chibs leaned against a stone wall. His cover had been a little _too_ good, because no one, not even Jax and Tara, could truly place where he was. That's why it was a shock to be grabbed from behind. _Who knows I'm here?_

Chibs didn't even have time to react to the massive, too strong arms that pulled him away from the vineyard. The large arms ended in larger hands that clamped over Chibs' mouth. He had even less time to react to the silencer pressed against his skull. With a quick prayer for his beloved Althea, Kerrianne, and his boy, John, the only thing he could feel as the bullet passed through the gun's elongated barrel was the love he'd just witnessed and the love he had for his woman and his kids. It was, for all intents and purposes, a quick, merciful, and almost beautiful way to die. As the old Scot fell to the ground, draped in the blackest of shadows, the truth that remained wove into the happiness that erupted down the hallway. After decades of lying dormant, Mr. Mayhem had come to the Tellers, and the lethal altercation with Chibs was only the beginning of the madness.


	10. Chapter 10

As Hannah stopped to catch her breath, she looked behind her. A buzzed grin lit her husband's face as he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. The bluegrass band had been replaced with a DJ, and more people were dancing than sitting. She stopped and turned to face him. Now oblivious to the crowd, she touched his face and kissed him gently. A familiar ache seeped into her bones, and she knew they'd be going up to their honeymoon suite soon. Every single guest had opted to stay overnight at the winery, and small castle would be full with their friends and family.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the world, Hannah Morgan," Abel growled low against her mouth. Pulling his new wife tightly against him, he marveled at how their bodies melded together perfectly, just as they always had. Unlike Hannah, who had been a virgin when they'd met, Abel had experienced a few girls before beginning his seven year relationship with his wife. After being with Hannah, not a single one of them could compare. She was all he needed.

"I don't know about that," Hannah replied as she broke their kiss. "I just know I am definitely the luckiest." The look in her eyes was almost savage as she stared at him. The hunger she had for Abel was plain, and Abel didn't give a fuck about propriety at this point. Without warning, he scooped his wife into his arms, cradling her. As the dancing guests registered what he was doing, they erupted in a chorus of bawdy cheers, hoots, and hollers. The tipsy groom blushed deeply as he smiled. Hannah, utterly embarrassed, buried her face his Abel's shoulder. Still, she couldn't ignore her body. It screamed for husband's touch. If that meant being carried over the threshold, so be it. Embarrassment was a price she'd gladly pay.

"Get er done, Adam!" Lala's voice rose over the music and the crowd. She'd been sneaking drinks off and on throughout the evening. She didn't know if alcohol was supposed to make loneliness more palatable, but about four shots of tequila in, she didn't really care about anything.

Hannah watched as Abel rolled his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shrieked as he rushed out of the reception room. He practically ran down the stone corridor, thankful for the beautiful woman in his arms. It was shockingly quiet in comparison to the party they'd left behind. Abel had found the stairs, and when he'd climbed them, he carefully set Hannah on her feet. The stairs led to a long hallway, which had a singular door at the end. The couple walked towards it, knowing that the honeymoon suite awaited on the other side.

The massive, intricately carved mahogany door was a piece of art, and it flowed beautifully with the small chateau's renaissance feel. When Hannah and Abel reached it, it was Hannah who reached for the knob and opened the door.

"Oh. My. God." Abel's voiced echoed in the silence. Hannah was speechless. The room was massive, with the same large stone walls of the halls and the reception room. A gigantic King size bed sat at the center of the room. The covers were a deep green velvet, and Hannah could see a glimmer of golden bedsheets peeking out from underneath the luxurious blanket. A huge Oriental rug interwoven with various shades of green, gold, red, and brown covered the dark hardwood floors. On the small bedside tables stood three long, tall white candles, all lit. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the room. It was simply beautiful. She heard the door shut behind her.

Before she could speak, she could feel Abel undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"Baby, I gotta get you out of this dress," Abel darkly whispered. Hannah hummed in anticipation and moved slightly away from him. She moved her long dark hair away and damn near swooned with the pleasure of his touch. _It shouldn't feel this good,_ she excitedly thought. _We've been together seven years. We should be bored already._ The heat of her husband's skin was far from boring. Goosebumps erupted over her arms and legs as a rush of cool night air hit her bare skin. Abel carefully extracted her arms from their tight sleeves. Now exposed to the waist, with just a flesh-toned bra covering her breasts he turned her to face him.

It was her turn to make quick work of Abel's clothes. She started with pushing the navy jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. Shaky fingers flew to his gold embossed buttons. Anxious desire made her fumble, and before she could stop him, he brushed her fingers away and undid them himself. She stayed busy by divesting herself of the rest of the dress. Abel's blue eyes widened appreciatively. Hannah was small, but her body was curvy, an hourglass of perfect proportions. Her panties, garters and stockings matched the bra, and Abel, unable to help himself, reached out to grab his wife by the waist.

"I love you, Mrs. Morgan," he whispered just before he crushed her lips with passionate kisses. As his lips moved to her throat, his fingers fought to find the clasp of her bra. She moaned into the silence, oblivious to the revel unwinding downstairs.

######################################################################################################

"You never told me you came from a long line of party animals," Will drawled. Thomas looked over at his lover, an enchanting smile plastered to his face. The evening had gone incredibly well, better than either one of them ever expected. They stood next to one another, bodies touching. Thomas had a long, lovingly possessive arm wrapped around Will's waist.

"I don't think I've ever seen them this turned up," Thomas confessed. Jax and Tara generally kept to themselves. There were less questions that way. To see them drinking with Hannah's parents was a strange sight, but it was a wonderful one. His parents looked genuinely happy. They were at ease. It didn't happen often, especially in the presence of others.

"Will-iam Char-les Lat-rie!" Lala's almost tipsy voice rang out above the music. "Get yer fine self over here and dance with yer future sister-in-law!" Lala's long, lean body moved with an expertise far greater than her eighteen years. The sophisticated chignon from before had come undone, and her chocolate brown curls bounced in time with the beat. She was shoeless and singing loudly. Thomas immediately regretted sneaking the leftover Jack to her, but the thought of Will one day being his husband was an exhilarating one, so he smiled in spite of himself.

"You heard the girl," Thomas motioned. There was a beer in his hand. "Get yer fiiine self to the dance floor!" Will laughed loudly, but he didn't have to be told twice. He loved dancing, and poor Thomas had two left feet. Lala was the perfect dance partner. Her rhythm was limitless. Will left his jacket behind, and Thomas watched as his partner, clad in charcoal slacks, a black button-down, and the sexiest set of black suspenders Thomas had ever seen, bounced in time with Lala.

Thomas was relieved at the reception Will had received. Both twins handled the news of Thomas' sexuality with the ease of youth. To them, nothing seemed strange or foreign, because the world was brand new. It was to them anyway. They loved Thomas with such veracity, it would matter if he brought Satan himself to their doorstep. As long as Thomas loved and was loved in return—that was, once again, all that mattered.

The feeling of freedom was utter insanity. Thomas couldn't believe he didn't come out sooner. _If I had known they'd love me like they do—_ His throat ached with the need to sob. He drowned the urge in beer. _They have no idea what this means to me._

"My brother loves you," Lala said as she danced. Will beamed.

"I love him," he returned. Whitney Houston's _So Emotional_ echoed in the small reception room. "More than anyone. I'd kill for that man." Lala smiled with that statement. They undulated with the bass, mouthing lyrics as they moved. _I been hearing your heartbeat beside me / I keep your photograph beside my bed—_

Thomas watched, utterly enamored with Will. He marveled at his grace. Long legs moved at lightning speed, but the motions seemed effortless. _Ain't it shocking what love can do—_

"Get your ass out here!" Lala's voice once again rang out in over the music. Without any warning, Thomas watched helplessly as Lala rushed across the dancefloor and grabbed his hand. Scared and shell-shocked, he tensely complied. As Whitney's voice rang out, signaling the end of the song, the music instantly changed to something slower and mellower. Thomas didn't know if the DJ had seen the painful scene, but no matter what, he was instantly grateful. He turned to leave the floor, when he felt the tug of a hand stopping him.

"Dance with me, Luke," Will pleaded. His dark brown eyes were limpid pools of love and desire, and Thomas, so awestruck by the moment, easily agreed. His left feet forgotten, he moved into his lover's arms. Swaying gently to the music

Lala watched from the sidelines, open-mouthed and more than a little jealous—not of Thomas having Will—just of someone else having love in general. Her thoughts raced to Charlie, but she knew that wasn't true love. It was a good lay, nothing more. That's all she'd ever ended up having—damn good, or sometimes really bad—sex. There was never love. Ever.

Tears blurred her vision as she hurriedly left the room. She travelled down the same corridor Hannah and Abel had so recently vacated. There was a huge balcony at the end of the stone hallway, and she retreated to it. Lala needed to be alone. Her thoughts were too sad for such a wonderful moment. She never wanted to bring anyone down. After all, she was the life of the party.

The balcony was the same stone as the floors, but it had a massive wrought iron railing. Painted a distressed white, it blended beautifully with the pale cream, white, and beige stone that seemed to be everywhere. Lala gripped it tightly and allowed her lungs to fill with fresh mountain air. Something about the Blue Ridge calmed her, healed any wounds she'd inflicted upon herself. It felt good to be outside.

"I'm amazed it isn't hotter out here," a deep voice danced up her spine. She jumped and turned suddenly.

"Victor," she breathed. "You scared the hell outta me. Next time, warn a bitch when you're out here."

A low, melodic laugh trickled into her ears. "I don't necessary make a habit out of scaring young girls," he explained apologetically. "Next time, I'll make sure to _warn a bitch_." Lala laughed, surprised. If that had been one of her brothers, she'd rush up and pop them in the head. With Victor, who was now, in a strange way, _family_ , none of the idiotic fury flooded her.

"You look different," Lala said without thinking. A heated blush stained her cheeks. _Of course he looks different, dumbass,_ she cursed at herself. _The last time you saw him, you weren't even in high school._ The Victor she'd remembered was very tall and very skinny. Victor Sinclair had been a kid when he left Silver Spring. The Victor that stood in front of her now was heavily muscled, extremely handsome, and every single inch a _man._

"You do too, Laura," Victor replied. Lala struggled with him calling her by her _given_ name. It was weird to hear anyone use it. He reminded Lala of his father. Dr. Sinclair was the only person in this new clan that called both she and Opie by their true names, and neither one of them liked it.

"Can you call me Lala?" she asked. "Everyone else does."

"Nope," Victor returned quickly. "You're too grown, too smart, and far too pretty to be called something as childish as _Lala_. Leave that to your family. Laura is a nice name."

Victor's words felt like backhanded compliments. _I don't want to be nice,_ she thought. _Why couldn't he just think I'm pretty?_ She didn't say anything else. She turned her back and looked out into the moonless night. She heard the tap of his dress shoes on the stone. He stepped beside her and leaned on the railing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the navy of his jacket. The white of his cap stood out in the darkness.

"Hannah and Adam chose a beautiful place," he said in an attempt at small talk.

"Mama and Daddy come here all the time," Lala stated, still not looking at him. "They suggested it, and Hannah loved it. Hannah could've wanted a wedding in Hell, and Adam would've gladly followed." Victor chuckled lightly. It was true. It was the only thing that gave him any kind of comfort. When he left all those years ago, it was in a haze of evil words and threats and lies. The only thing he regretted was leaving Hannah behind. Knowing that she had someone like Adam Morgan lifted a huge burden from his shoulders.

"Adam _does_ love my sister," Victor said as he turned to face her. Unable to help herself, Lala faced him. _God, he's hot._ She remained stone-faced, determined not give the Marine the upper-hand. There was something about him that made her think he was a soldier in every area of his life. "I don't think I could see him with anyone else."

Lala turned and faced the mountains again, trying to end the conversation. The urge to just _touch_ Victor was too strong. It was confusing, the sensations that radiated through her. She didn't necessarily want to _bang_ Hannah's older brother, and that in and of itself was strange. She saw the faraway look in his eyes. It was the same look she saw when she looked in the mirror. She noticed the clenched jaw, the struggle to speak, and she could almost bet that, once he took of that uniform, he was the life of the party too. Victor Sinclair was too close, and it was all too weird.

The silence was deafening. This was the kind of moment that made Victor wish for a stiff drink. Adam's little sister was a beautiful girl, but her fiery personality drew him more than he thought it would. He could see the old soul that dwelled in the depths of her eyes. It was unsettling. She was barely eighteen. He was ten years her senior. _She's a little girl,_ he thought. _A gorgeous little girl, but a little girl nonetheless._ He stood straight.

"I'm going in," he said. "You wanna go in with me?" Lala shook her head in the negative.

"I'll be in soon," she whispered. "I just need a minute." With a quick nod and an undetected racing heart, Victor went back inside. Lala looked out at the mountains; they scrawled a strange, almost smoky gray line across the midnight black horizon.

 _I'm so ready to get the fuck out of here,_ she thought as she stared out into the void. _Maybe then I'll meet someone that kills this pain. God knows I never asked for it._

 _######################################################################################################_

Abel's breathing was irregular as Hannah clutched him. They were drenched in sweat, and her legs were still wrapped around his waist. Her hand was on his chest; she could feel his uneven heartbeat beneath her palm. Concern crept into her as she stared into Abel's eyes. She worried about his heart condition. It'd been a long time since his last episode, but knowing that Abel's heart could give out at any time was scary as hell.

"You alright?" Abel asked as he rolled off of her. He quickly rolled onto his side and pulled Hannah close. The jagged, syncopated beating of his heart pounded against her spine.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Hannah countered. "You feel ok?"

"My heart is fine, baby," Abel breathed. He stroked her hair, careful to avoid any tangles. "I can't help what you do to me. You're the one that makes my heart skip a beat."

Hannah groaned good-naturedly at Abel's bad joke. "You suck at puns," she firmly stated. Abel's heart corrected itself and began to beat normally again. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.

"I love you," he mumbled into her hair. "I am so fucking lucky to have you. You are amazing." Hannah inhaled deeply.

"I love you," she returned. She lay there for a moment, content to listening to Abel's slow and steady breathing. She was almost asleep when the room began to spin. She breathed deeply again in an effort to control the constant circling. Nausea crept up her throat, and she bolted upright. Flipping her legs over the bed, she ran to the adjacent bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet. Vomit spewed from her as she knelt down.

Abel was behind her instantly. He was just as naked as she was. He reached for one of the complimentary bathrobes and draped it over his sick wife. He pulled the other from the wall hook and slipped into it. He knelt by her, holding her hair back as she retched.

"How much did you drink?" Abel queried.

"I didn't drink anything," Hannah responded. Finished throwing up the contents of her supper, she sat back, clutching at the robe.

"Did you eat something bad?" Abel fired back. _If she did, then I'll have it in no time,_ he reasoned. _A stomach virus is just the thing a honeymoon needs._

"I was going to wait until we were at the beach, but I don't see any reason to hide it anymore," Hannah said. The couple had planned a short Outer Banks trip for their honeymoon. After everyone departed the vineyard the next morning, Abel and Hannah would be on their way to the beach. They'd planned it for months. "Do you know if your mama managed to get my purse up here?"

Abel was confused. Hannah wasn't making sense. _Maybe she did drink and just doesn't remember._ With all the insanity of that day, it made sense. She could've easily gotten everything jumbled. Instead of questioning, Abel went back into the bedroom. Flicking on the light, he quickly surveyed the room, and in the corner, just between the door and the dresser, rested Hannah's purse. Quickly, he scooped it into his hands and went to the bathroom.

Hannah had managed to pull the robe on and tie it shut. She was pale. Now it was Abel's time to worry.

"What'd you need the bag for?" Abel asked. Without speaking, she reached into the bag and pulled out a small, oblong rectangular box. Abel reddened with embarrassment.

"I didn't get you anything," he said quietly. He was still unsure of what the hell was happening.

"Just open it," she gently demanded. Guilt edged Abel's eyes as he opened his wife's gift. Pulling back the tissue paper, he understood how it all tied together.

"You're pregnant?" Abel's voice cracked with the question. The test's two pink lines stared back at him, and he didn't know whether to weep from happiness or shout it from the mountain tops. Unable to hold it together any longer, Hannah nodded as tears streamed down her face. They decided just before the wedding to stop Hannah's birth control. Two months would be plenty of time to get Hannah's body in prime baby making mode. They wanted kids fast; neither one of them realized it would be _that_ fast.

"About eight weeks, according the doctor," Hannah weepily replied. "I'm pretty sure we did it on the first try." She laughed through her tears. "Talk about timing, huh? I just barely fit in my dress today. It was almost too tight. I'm just amazed that we got knocked up that fast."

Silently, Abel gathered Hannah into his arms. He'd started his day a young, single guy, and he was ending it married with a baby on the way. It was pure madness to think how twenty-four hours could change everything. Hannah's vows rang in his ears. _One day, you will be my baby's father, and I know that, if I go first, you will be the one holding my hand so I'm not alone._ He tipped Hannah's tear-stained face up to his and kissed her gently. _You'll never be alone, Hannah Morgan. Not while my heart is still beating._ His hand instinctively went to her belly as she twined her fingers in his golden hair. Abel opened his eyes and stared into Hannah's.

"I can't believe I'm gonna be a—"Abel's words were silenced by a scream. It was distant, but it was loud. Peel after peel of what sounded like pure terror echoed from outside. It didn't cease or taper off; in fact, it grew louder and louder as the seconds passed. Abel carefully but quickly extracted himself from his wife's grasp. Jumping to his feet, he padded across the bathroom's marble floors and ran to the bedroom. Hannah quickly scrambled to her feet as well and followed Abel out. Before Hannah could grasp what was happening, Abel had already managed to throw on his pants and his button-down. It flew behind him as he rushed to leave.

Swinging the massive wooden door, he was startled to see Tara there, her hand ready to knock. Still dressed in her beautiful Grecian gown, her face was ghostly and her arms, Abel immediately noticed, were covered in goosebumps.

"I know, Mama," Abel said through clenched teeth. "Dad and Luke downstairs?" Tara nodded as Abel rushed past her. Hannah's heart hammered against her chest as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

"What's going on?" Hannah stammered as Tara entered the room. Tara was visibly shaking. A mix of worry, terror, heartbreak, and sadness etched the older woman's eyes and her lips. In the quick moments that Tara hesitated, Hannah tightened her robe, grabbed slippers, and readied herself to leave. Grabbing Tara's hand, they bolted from the room, and Hannah repeated her question. "Mom, did you hear me? Do you know what's going on?"

"I don't know, Hannah," she whispered breathlessly as they practically ran down the stairs. "But I've only heard that sound once before, a lifetime ago, and the sound came from Opie's lips."


	11. Chapter 11

Before the scream, they were dancing. As they moved in time with one another, Opie felt her lungs tighten, and her heart pumped furiously. She never felt more alive than when she was with Lucius.

"It's really hard to keep my hands off of you, Op," Lucius said low. They were on the dance floor, a few feet from Lala and Thomas and Will, when she heard his words. Her gray eyes were huge as they stared at him. She was immediately grateful for the loud music, because she was sure that Lucius would be able to hear her thundering heart.

"My parents are here, Lucius." She was breathless as they moved in time to the beat. Lucius was a decent dancer, and he kept up well with Opie. She watched as his green eyes teased. He grinned disarmingly, and her legs felt like Jello as she tried to keep the beat.

"So?" The word was mouthed, not said aloud, and Opie didn't quite know if she loved or hated his audacity. She eyed her parents, who were too busy finally letting loose to worry about anything. Tara happily sat in Jax's lap, and they were having a conversation only they were privy to. Opie's heart filled with warmth simply watching them. They were the epitome of true and unyielding love.

Lucius' hands went to Opie's tiny waist. The music had slowed dramatically, and Lucius pulled her close. Opie's eyes darted nervously about the room. Tara and Jax were still talking, and Thomas and Will were dancing close. Once again, her heart warmed, but a flash of navy and dark hair slid past, and Opie stopped. _Where the hell is Lala going?_ She tried to follow her, but Lucius pulled her back.

"Let her go, Op," he quietly demanded. A hot blush diffused her cheeks. She stopped for a moment, completely breathless. She narrowed her eyes as she stared up at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Her eyes flashed infuriated silver. She carefully pulled herself from his grasp, so she didn't create a scene. She glared at him as she turned to follow Lala out. Her feet swiftly ran across the stone. Her heart pounded with fury. _Maybe I was wrong about him,_ Opie thought. _Maybe I wasn't ready for this._ Over the roar of her heart she could hear his feet trailing behind her, and that was really the last thing she wanted.

"You ok?" Lucius asked. Opie looked at him. He appeared genuinely concerned. She wordlessly nodded, but he didn't believe it. Without hesitation, she walked towards the end of the long hallway. She could clearly see Lala. Her sister's slender body cut an interesting angle against the mountains. She was halfway there when she stopped.

 _Victor Sinclair._ The huge Marine came into clear view. His burly silhouette looked strange against Lala's angular body. The white cap was all Opie could see. She stopped walking. Lucius stopped behind her. She felt his big, rough hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"I told you to let her go," he quietly said. There was no malice in his tone. "I didn't mean to piss you off, Op. I just get precious few moments with you. We're constantly sneaking around—and we've got a couple months before you leave."

Opie was crestfallen. She didn't know what she was going to do once school started. She was thankful she wasn't following Lala to NYU—Duke University was more her speed, and it kept her close enough to come home on the weekends. It would still be hard. _If it's meant to be, it'll work itself out._ She turned to face Lucius.

He was simply stunning, even in darkness. His golden skin gleamed as the lights of the reception hall reflected off his face. She could see the glint of his peridot eyes as he stared at him. She felt his arms encircle her waist, and before she knew it, his mouth has captured hers in a kiss. His tongue slipped effortlessly over hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity rush through her. When he tried to pull away, she grasped his face and pulled him back in. A deep moan escaped his throat as he pulled her closer.

When they broke apart, Opie carefully scanned the reception hall. Things were slowing down a little, but there were still stragglers on the dancefloor, and to Opie's surprise, she saw her parents slowly moving across the floor. Breathing a sigh of both admiration and relief, she grabbed Lucius' hand, and she led him away from the corridor. To the left of the reception hall was a large stairway, and Opie, somewhat familiar with the property, led him away.

"You're such a bad influence," Lucius joked as she led him downstairs. She giggled, and it echoed beautifully as they hit the courtyard. Opie stopped and took her heels off. Even at five-nine, she was no match for Lucius' taller frame. Without the heels, she felt dwarfed.

Even in the dark, the courtyard was splendid. No one had touched the seating from before. A slight, cool breeze tickled the tulle that covered the chair backs. Lucius pulled Opie towards the aisle, and he linked his arm within hers. Humming _Here Comes the Bride_ , he laughingly escorted her to where Abel and Hannah stood just hours earlier. Together, they stood under the cloudy skies. Their eyes met. Opie was spellbound.

"Let's get married," Lucius said. The look on his face was one of complete seriousness. Opie was taken aback.

"Are you kidding?" she raised an elegantly arched brow.

"Only partially," Lucius countered. Opie brow now furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You're so beautiful," Lucius began. "You really are. The first time I saw you, I knew how special you were." Opie resisted the urge to roll her eyes, especially when she saw the intent in his eyes.

"But that doesn't mean we should get married," she replied. Lucius nodded.

"I know that," he stated. "I guess seeing you with your family, seeing your brother and Hannah get married—I guess it made me really see what I have. And I don't want to keep it quiet. I don't want to hide it from your parents. I want everyone to know how much I love you, how I want you to be mine. Forever."

Opie's breath caught. "What did you say?"

Lucius smiled, and even that motion tugged at her heart. "I want everyone to know how much I love you." Opie pulled her hands from his and began to walk away. Lucius, completely dumbfounded, followed. "What's wrong, Op? What did I do?" He caught up with her and spun her so she faced him once more.

"Don't love me," Opie whispered. "Don't pin all your hopes on this heart. That is probably the worst thing you could do."

"I don't understand," Lucius said. "This isn't the first time I told you _I love you_."

"Yeah, but it is the first time you've asked for forever."

Incredulous, Lucius sat on one of the vacated chairs. "So what is this for? What's the point?"

Opie sat beside him. "I am eighteen, Lucius. In the grand scheme of things, I am just a kid. I can't promise you forever. I'm not my brother. I can't find forever in _anyone's_ eyes. I want to find me first. I want to know if I like mimosas. I want to know what a sunset in Amsterdam looks like. I want to know the feeling of Canadian air on my cheeks. I want to cook for my mama in my own apartment. I want everything and nothing, all at once—and your dreams and my dreams may not be the same dreams. I am not the girl to pin your hopes on, not now."

"That's fucked up," Lucius whispered. Opie reached out and grabbed his hand. Lucius didn't pull away, but there was pain in his beautiful green eyes as he narrowed them.

"No, Lucius, it's not fucked up," she returned. "I love you that fucking much—I'm not going to lie to you and promise you forever when I can't deliver. I want you in my life for as long as we make each other happy. If that's forever, wonderful. If it's not, then at least I didn't make a promise I can't keep."

"It's gonna be forever, Op." Lucius' voice had so much conviction that Opie almost believed it. He bent to kiss her. Forgetting her speech from just moments before, she melted into his kiss. As Lucius' lips trailed the smooth, creamy column of her throat, those Amsterdam sunsets and mimosas were long forgotten. The straps of her navy dress slid off her shoulders, and her ample breasts were almost exposed.

"Not here, Lucius," Opie whispered. They were sprawled across the chairs. Opie's eyes flickered about the property, and with a rush of blood to her cheeks, she saw the perfect place for a clandestine tryst. Grabbing Lucius' hand, she led him to the blackened corridor just beyond where her brother's ceremony took place.

"Ain't no one gonna see us here," Lucius murmured low as Opie giggled. He stood against the wall and pulled Opie against him. His lips met hers, and as her fingers found the buttons on his shirt, his found the zipper of her dress.

"Oh no," she whispered teasingly. Her eyes darted the sliver of light that still remained from the reception hall. She pulled him away from the wall and into the darkness. Before her eyes could get used to the darkness, her feet tripped over something massive. As her feet flew out beneath her, she expected to meet the concrete, so when she met something softer and definitely less abrasive than stone, she was shocked.

"What the hell-?" her voice shook as she spoke. Lucius, in the midst of darkness and trying to help Opie, struggled to find his phone. He couldn't see a damned thing. Opie was almost in full freak out mode. "Help me Lucius!"

"Babe, lemme get my phone. I just need to see what's going on—"Lucius phone was in his hand. When he flicked the button to illuminate the night, Opie saw his face. As she turned to try and stand, the flash of light from the phone illuminated the source of her fall. Beneath her bruised body was no cobblestone. Opie's eyes widened as she realized what caused her collapse.

"What the fuck?!" Opie's voice was high, shrill cry. "Why is he laying here?" Lucius grabbed Opie's hand and pulled her up. He yanked her close, his large hand grasped her waist. She could feel the clamminess pushing through her dress.

"Probably just a drunk worker, babe," he whispered fearfully. Opie knew damn good and well that it wasn't a worker, and she knew that he sure as hell wasn't drunk. Even a drunk man would wake when a person _fell_ over them. She began to shake uncontrollably as Lucius shone the light over the man's body. It was when they got to his face, they realized something was horribly, terribly wrong.

And that's when the screaming began.

Loud, shocked, frightened, the screaming grew louder and louder as Opie's terror poured from her throat. Lucius, phone frozen in place, couldn't help but see the man's brain splayed on the cobblestone. Dressed in head-to-toe black, the man was roughly sixty or seventy years old. His eyes were half-open, as was his mouth. Lucius had never seen anything like it.

He grasped his now very fragile girlfriend and tried to tell her it was going to be okay. Honestly, he didn't know if he was lying or telling the truth. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was glued to where they stood. Neither one could move as Opie's screaming continued.

"What the fuck is happening?" a strange, masculine voice echoed from behind. An all too familiar feminine voice followed.

"Opie! Opie! What's wrong?!" Lala's voice rang out. They'd heard the screaming from the balcony. Lala's body flooded with memories. She knew who the scream belonged to the moment it rang out. The look on her face must've spoke volumes, because before she could kick off her shoes and rush down the steps, Victor beat her to it, and Lala could only follow. They'd rushed down to the courtyard as quickly as they could, only to see Opie in Lucius' arms.

Before Lucius could stop her, Opie's twin pulled her from his arms, and he was propelled backwards. His eyes slammed shut with the blow, and when he opened them, a massive hulk of a man, dressed in a Marine uniform, had him slammed against the opposite wall. The soldier didn't appear distressed or upset; in fact, he was very calm.

"What the hell is going on, kid? Tell me now." Victor Sinclair's voice was low. "Tell me what happened before this whole goddamned wedding flocks to us."

"Don't hurt him Victor!" Opie screeched. "He didn't do this! We found him! We fucking fooound him!" The screams were now alternating with cries and sobs. Opie was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as Lala held tight to her.

"Found who?" Victor asked. The screams were awful. They tore at Victor's soul. He'd known these girls since they were pre-pubescent.

"I'll show you," Lucius responded. "Just let me go." Victor's eyes were skeptical. "I won't run," Lucius promised. Even though his eyes were still wary, Victor released the younger man. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone. Oblivious to the sound of footsteps closing in, Lucius pressed the button and shone it on the body.

Another scream rang out.

This time, it was low and pained, so guttural in nature, Victor thought it to be a wounded animal. Astounded by the sound, everyone turned to its source. Opie's screeches died on the cool mountain breeze that surrounded them.

"Chibs! Oh, God—Chibs, nooooo!" Opie and Lala were shocked to see their father standing just beyond them. Thomas stood by his side, but nothing could change the terrified look in his eyes, which were wide with incredulous dismay. His mouth trembled with fear and horror and heartbreak. The older blonde man, children forgotten, rushed to the man he'd known for the vast majority of his life. Since John Teller's death, Chibs had been the closest thing to a _real_ dad he'd had. Even with eighteen years apart, the blow of seeing his corpse of the stone was too overwhelming.

The screams were over. Opie, Lala, Victor, Thomas, and Lucius watched as Jax sank to his knees by his old friend's side. With no care or worry for his beautifully fitted suit, he cradled his dead friend in his arms. Blood and brains soaked the creamy button-down as openly and brokenly wept. There was no worry about blowing any covers; the singular pain of his loss was all the mattered.

No one heard Abel feet as he neared. He stopped as he neared the fray. The scene that unraveled was part of a strange, otherworldly dream. His sisters stood, grasping at one another. Victor stood quietly as his dad's mechanic, Lucius, stood awkwardly as he flashed a cell phone spotlight on his father and a dead man. Just a few feet behind him, he heard the distinct crackle of leaves and grass. Abel turned, only to see Hannah, still clad in her robe. His mother followed.

"Mama? What's wrong?" Abel's voice rang out as he watched Tara's face lose all color. A film of tears developed over her eyes, and her body trembled uncontrollably. She was a ghost as she pushed past him.

"Jackson?" The hollow, small voice that came from Tara's throat was disturbed. She slowly moved towards her husband. "Jackson, tell me that isn't Chibs."

Jax turned towards his wife, his face soaked with agony and tears. His shattered heart was written all over his face.

"I can't Tara," he cried. "I can't tell you that." Jax began to rock back and forth. Tara, traumatized and blind to the people around her, knelt by his side. In one instant, they'd been catapulted back to Charming. Flashes of Nero, Wendy, Wayne, Gemma—they all flowed through her.

Jax and Tara sobbed, and their cries were the only sound amongst them. Lala and Opie stared at their father. Thomas had managed to stand at Abel's side, unable to take his eyes away. Another rustle of grass startled him, and he turned to see Will, standing just behind him. Will's solid arm encircled his waist. They watched as the scene unfolded.

"I'm so sorry, Chibs," Jax said quietly as he wept. "Thank you for trying to save this family."

"What in the world is happening, Adam?" Hannah whispered. "Who is this man?" Abel shook his head. It had taken moments for his life to feel like it was unraveling. As he held Hannah, his hand once again went to her still flat belly. He wished he could explain. He wish he knew, but sometimes, circumstances weren't made to be understand. As the sound of sirens grew closer, Abel realized there was nothing he could say. This was simply one moment in which he didn't have a good answer. Absolutely nothing made sense. Nothing at all.


	12. Chapter 12

Dawn was coming. Jax Teller could see it clearly in the stripes of violet, rose, crimson, and navy that lit up the sky. He hadn't slept all night; neither did Tara. They stood, side-by-side, staring out the window. Jax's hand clutched Tara's as they stared out at the stunning mountain horizon.

 _Chibs is dead._ The words circled around in his mind, and even now, he couldn't believe it. The old man seemed invincible, and Jax thought it would be a heart attack or natural causes that would befall his best friend. Never in a million years did he think it would be a bullet to the head. At this stage of the game, a so-called _normal_ death seemed far more likely. But, Jax reasoned, nothing in his life was normal. It never had been.

"What are we going to do now, Jax?" Tara's voice shattered the introspection. Jax turned and met her gaze. Her hazel eyes were exhausted and swollen from the all-nighter. Crying for hours on end would do that. "Have we figured it out?"

Jax sighed deeply, unsure of the right answer. "Althea is on her way. I don't think it's wise to plan anything in full until she arrives." Tara nodded in understanding. Just hours before, they'd blindsided Chibs' lover with the news of his death.

"What do you mean, Filip is gone?" Althea Jarry's voice was incredulous as it crackled in Jax's ear. "He's not supposed to be back anytime soon." Jax sighed heavily. When he'd said _Chibs is gone,_ that didn't mean he was heading back to Charming.

"He was shot, Althea," he said quietly, his voice breaking. "He's not coming home alive. The bullet made a clean shot through his brain. He's dead. Gone."

A horrified gasp echoed through the other end. It was followed by tears. Savage, agonized tears escaped her throat, and they rang in his ears, causing him to sob harder as he listened. Tara sat next to him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she did so. Her tears soaked his freshly changed gray t-shirt. This was a phone call no one _wanted_ to make, but he had to make it. Jax owed it to his Chibs to take care of his remaining family. As her sobbing dissipated, Jax's tears lessened. Tara's didn't. The world she'd carefully constructed had been incinerated by Chibs' death. Her whole world was aflame, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"I'm coming out there," Althea firmly stated. Jax nodded. Of course she would. He had expected that much.

"Is John coming too?" Jax asked. The line went silent for a moment. Jax could hear Althea's logical thoughts through the line. Even death didn't change her talent for analyzing a situation.

"I don't think I have a choice. I don't know how to explain it to Bobby or Tig. Neither one know you're alive, and I know that, if I face them, I won't be able to keep a straight face. I'll break down. As much as I want to shield John from this part of the pain, if I leave him behind—"

"My cover is blown, Althea," Jax returned. "I broke down in front of everyone—as Chibs was in my arms. Tara did too. We—we—called each other by our names, Althea. Our _real_ names." Jax heard a low sigh leave Althea's lips.

"John and I will catch the first flight we can. After I get there, we'll sit down and figure out what to do—Kerrianne has to be notified, of course, but I don't want to do that and blow your cover."

"There's nothing to sit down and discuss as far as our cover is concerned, Althea," Jax said solemnly. "Tara and I are tired of lying. Our kids are grown. Just because we chose WitSec doesn't mean they can—or that they want to. We have to talk to them about it, and that's happening this morning."

"I understand, Jackson," Althea's voice was weary and hollow. "We'll figure out exactly what to do when I get there. Go deal with your kids. I have to break my son's heart."

"Althea, I'm so—"

There was no goodbye, just silence followed by a dial tone. Jax clicked his phone off, and in the hours that passed, the darkest hours before the dawn, he and Tara laid together and simply held one another. The feelings that raged through them weren't all that different from almost twenty years ago, just before Jax struck a deal with Tyne Patterson. Then, it was a struggle to save the boys and the club, but there was this strange hunger, a desperation to hold each other amidst all the insanity. It was no different now. They were together, a united front against a future that was uncertain. It was truly the story of their life.

"I don't know how they're going to understand," Tara said as she rolled to her back. Her hazel eyes were a blank slate. In the years since they entered the Witness Protection Program, Jax had become innately attuned to his wife. Every move, every look, every single emotion was his. They'd truly become mirrored souls. "We've been lying to them their whole lives. Every fucking moral, every goddamned value, is a lie."

"We had no choice, Tara," Jax sighed. He sat up and kicked his legs over the bedside. His back was turned towards Tara, but his wife's eyes didn't move from the stark white ceiling. "Lies or death, what's worse?"

A sharp bark of ironic laughter burned Tara's throat. "Lies _or_ death, Jax? You act like we haven't been balancing the two our entire lives. You act like we broke free somehow."

"Didn't we?" Jax's voice was tortured. "Didn't we give our baby girls and our boys a chance at something?"

"A chance at what? Inevitable death?" Tara asked through clenched teeth. Jax leapt from the bed as if he'd been burned. Tara tore her deadened eyes from the ceiling and stared at her beloved.

"Goddamn it, Tara, did you miss all of tonight?" His blue eyes flashed with icy fire. "Did you miss our son saying _I do_? Were your eyes blind to Thomas and Will swaying on the dancefloor? They're starting their lives with the ones they love. Our twins, our girls—they're going onto amazing things—Lala to New York and Opie to Raleigh—do you think that's an inevitable death?"

"The only thing we've given them is more attachment. We've made them more vulnerable to pain." Tara was emotionless, cold. Jax remembered this side of her. This was the Tara that caught her with Collette. The same one that caught him with Ima. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago. They _were_ a lifetime ago. That was a totally different Jackson Teller. He would never dream of that now.

"No, we've given them a chance," Jax countered. He rounded the bed and stood above her. "We did the best we could."

"Is that what our headstones will say?" Tara venomously replied. "They won't have our real names or our real birthdays, but goddamn it, they'll say _we did the best we fucking could."_ The fury rose in her gut, and she wanted to take it out on something. In one night, she went from a blissful wedding to a murder. She had basically outed herself to her kids. In a few short moments, she'd probably ruin their lives and their relationships. Tara Knowles Teller was angry at the situation, at the circumstances, at herself, and she wanted to hurt someone else in the same way she was hurting. Unfortunately, Jax was the punching bag.

She didn't want to think of the future. The possibility of travelling to Charming loomed huge on the horizon. Chibs had to get back there somehow, and they still had to figure out who the fuck was after them now. It was safe to say that WitSec wouldn't want them back now, and that was the only thing that brought Tara any comfort. She could go by her real name again.

"I don't know what you want from me, Tara," Jax whispered. "I can't change this. I can't fix it. If I've learned anything from you over the last eighteen years, it's that I can't make empty promises. If you want a fix-all, I don't have it. All I have is me—and the desire to keep this family as intact as I possibly can."

Tara sat up and twisted her body to face him. Her feet barely touched the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed. Wordlessly, she buried her face in his taut belly. His fingers twined in her hair as she wrapped her arms around him. Jax opened his mouth to speak, but a sob poured from Tara's throat. Before he could figure out she was crying, his shirt was soaked with her tears. He was so heartbroken, he didn't even notice his own tears as they fell on her head.

"I'm sorry, Jax," Tara cried. "I just don't know what to do. I want to kill the bastard that killed Chibs. I want to cut his goddamned throat for fucking up my son's wedding, for fucking up my family, and I—I—"

"You're powerless," Jax stated. Tara turned her beautiful face up to Jax's. He never failed to understand her. Ever. He pulled her to her feet, his handsome face swollen from crying. "I can't stop the madness, Tara. I'd be a fool to try. But I will stand with you as it rains on us. That I can promise you." Tara nodded in understanding and buried her face in his shoulder. It was comforting to be understood.

A knock sounded on the door. Tara looked up from Jax's shoulder. Pale, dim sunlight streamed through an overcast sky, blanketing the room in grayish shadows. Dawn had arrived to the vineyard. Surely, the kids were awake. Tara couldn't imagine any of them sleeping through the night.

"Come in," Jax called. The door swung in, and Hannah and Abel walked through it. Abel was casually dressed in a white t-shirt and well-worn Levis. Barefoot, he walked in ahead of Hannah. Tara's breath caught. His closely cropped hair and five o'clock shadow made him a dead ringer for fresh-outta-Stockton Jax.

Hannah wore a pair of baggy black sweatpants and a purple tank top. A sliver of her tanned belly showed, and over that, she wore a massive black sweater. Tara squinted. She'd gotten Abel the sweater for Christmas the year before. It damned near swallowed his diminutive wife. Her hair was piled in a haphazard, messy bun. She wore no makeup, but she didn't need it. Despite her obvious crying, Hannah still looked somewhat fresh and youthful. Like her husband, she was barefoot. Wide-eyed and obviously nervous, she trailed behind Abel on purpose.

"Good morning, Pop," Abel murmured. "Mama. Did y'all sleep at all?" Jax shook his head in the negative.

"Not really," answered Tara. "Maybe a few minutes here and there. I hope you fared better."

"Hannah got a couple hours," Abel replied. Tara heard the unspoken words. _But I didn't._ Abel with Hannah was just like Jax was with her: strong, fiercely protective, savage and loving. Even now, she watched proudly as Abel pulled Hannah into the same grasp that Jax held her in.

"We're gonna head down in a minute, son," Jax quietly stated. "Let your mama and I get cleaned up." Abel nodded.

"Luke and Will are already downstairs, trying to eat. I know Opie and—" Abel stopped himself from saying Lucius' name. He knew the boy had stayed all night in his sister's room. Under normal circumstances, Abel would've pummeled the kid himself, but he also knew Opie needed him there.  
"Opie is coming down soon. I haven't heard anything from Lala, but if Opie's up, she is too."

Jax nodded. "We'll be down soon, son. We won't keep you waiting." Abel nodded in return. Clutching Hannah's hand, they turned and left, shutting the door behind them.

"That was strange," Hannah whispered as they walked away and headed towards the steps.

"I don't think anything could be possibly normal after last night," Abel said. "I just—I just—I _know_ that man from somewhere." Abel couldn't shake the feeling. Even with the grotesque scene, Abel's gut registered the mystery man's face. The goatee, the jaw, the leather, the never-ending black clothing.

On the other side of the chateau, Delylah Teller stood in front of her mirror, tying her long, dark hair into a bun. Unlike her brother, she was trying to forget the man from the night before. She'd recognized him immediately. _The man from the hotel._ She shuddered. _Sons of Anarchy- California._ She'd caught a glimpse of the patches as the coroner loaded him into the awaiting van. Chills ran up and down her spine.She snapped her eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

"Are you okay?" Victor Sinclair's voice bubbled in her ears. Slowly, he walked towards her. Dressed in jeans and a well-fitted black button-down, he looked significantly different from the day prior. _God, how I wish he wasn't a gentleman,_ Delylah thought as he neared. She turned to face him.

"I'm better than last night," she admitted. When everyone dispersed to their separate rooms, she'd been plenty shaken. She'd sought her twin, but a quick listen outside her door told her that her horrified sister would be spending the night in Lucius' arms. That's when it sank in for Delylah: the dead body, the strange names her parents had called one another—but what stuck out more than anything was the loneliness that filled her. She sank to the hallway floor. She wanted to cry, but nothing would come. Complete apathy had set in as she closed her eyes.

"Lala?" It was Victor. She opened her eyes and drank the tall Marine in. He'd changed into flannel pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. "What's wrong?"

Delylah's eyes were wide and haunted, but she simply couldn't speak. She just stared ahead, unsure of everything around her. Victor knelt by her side. Without asking permission, he picked her up. He cradled her easily in his huge arms. There was nothing Delylah could say; she just allowed him to take her to her room.

He opened the door easily, even with her in his grasp. He carefully placed her on the bed. She didn't bother to roll to her side. She just closed her eyes. She felt the sensation of a huge comforter being pulled over her. She opened her eyes. Victor's back was turned as he walked in the direction of the open door.

"V—Vic—Victor," she stammered. Despite the comforter, she was freezing. "P—Please. I don't w—want to be alone. Stay with me." Victor stopped walking. He turned and stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes softening.

"I wasn't leaving you," he whispered. "I was simply closing the door. I was going to sleep in the chair. You shouldn't be alone. Not now."

Lala sat up. "You don't have to do that. You can sleep with me."

A strange light flicked in Victor's eyes, but Victor extinguished it quickly. "I can't do that," he whispered. "It would look terrible if anyone saw us. Even though you're just a kid in my eyes, anyone that saw us would take it for the worst." The lie rolled easily off his tongue. Victor wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Lala and spend the night making her forget anything she'd seen.

"I wasn't asking to bang you, Victor," Lala's voice was tired. "I just need someone to hold me right now. No strings, no weirdness. I just need to feel safe, even if it's with you. I don't give a good goddamn what it looks like."

 _Damn, she's logical,_ he thought. _If only she were twenty-five._ He moved towards the bed. She could feel the weight of his body as it sank into the mattress. Slowly, he tucked the comforter around her, forming a soft, cushioned barrier between them. If Lala hadn't been so traumatized, she would have giggled at his efforts. Instead of laughter, Victor was met with Lala rolling over, turning her back to him. He stretched his arm and placed it carefully over her waist. All the tension within her evaporated, and within moments, Victor had found himself falling asleep to the sound of her rhythmic, dream-filled breathing.

They awoke in the same position they'd fallen asleep. The overcast day reflected through the windows. Victor peeled his arm away from her and moved off the bed. Now standing, he turned to face her. Her chocolate curls were in a crazed disarray, but she was beautiful.

"I'm gonna get dressed," he said. "I'll be back in thirty, then I'll go downstairs with you." Lala sleepily nodded as he turned and walked out the door.

Opie spied the handsome soldier leaving her sister's room. She had been heading towards Lala's room. She didn't let him see her, instead she darted into an adjacent corridor, content to be hidden in the shadows. She was grateful for the cover. It was in that moment she turned around and entered her room. _I'll keep your secret, Lala._

True to his word, Victor arrived thirty minutes later.

"Thank you for last night," she said as she finished her messy bun. "I appreciate you staying—even if you didn't want to." Victor's military stance was back. In daylight, without professional make-up and hair, she looked every single minute of eighteen. _No matter how I feel, little girl,_ he thought. _You're just too young._

"You're welcome," Victor returned smoothly. "You ready to go downstairs?"

"As ready as I am going to be," Lala candidly stated. She walked towards him. There was a desperate need within her—all she wanted was to repeat the night prior. No sex—just peace. She looked up at him, and when he offered a careful smile, she smiled in return. They didn't speak as they left the room; they just walked out the door and down the steps. An eternity had passed in one night. Though Lala had no idea the turmoil that awaited her, she knew that she could find safety in Victor's arms, and for now, that was all she really needed.


	13. Chapter 13

"You think you know how this ends. I'm here to tell you that you're only in the beginning," Jax Teller's words sounded more like the beginning of a novel that a conversation. Tara blinked and couldn't help but remember JT's journals. Had her husband been born in a different time, a different place, he could have been an amazing storyteller. He could find words when she struggled. JT could spin a tale too; it was his journal that began this madness. His journal, combined with the love letters Maureen Ashby received, painted a vivid and bloody picture of SAMCRO. Tara recalled how it took her breath away. The feeling had returned as Jax spoke.

The family was gathered in a huge, closed off banquet room. Jax sat at the helm, just as he did back in the SAMCRO days. His silver and gold hair was combed back, and it glistened despite the overcast clouds glowering through the windows. He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Tara sat to his right, holding his hand for dear life, and her rested on each soul as she valiantly fought to keep her anxiety at bay.

Opie and Lala sat beside one another at the center of the table. Lucius and Victor flanked each girl. The twins alternated between watching Tara and Jax as Jax spoke. Tara noticed how one of Opie's hands gripped Lala's, but the other clutched Lucius'. Tara's pulse quickened _. Opie was with him last night._ Images of Chibs flickered through Tara's brain. She shivered as if her life depended on it, but the shudder exercised Tara of Chibs and the SAMCRO demons, if only for the moment. Her eyes flicked to Lala. Even though she looked like Tara, there were components of Gemma in that girl's soul. She didn't clutch Victor's hand; if anything, she was distant, but Victor didn't seem very warm and fuzzy. If they were a couple, Tara wouldn't know it. At this point, she considered it a blessing.

"The beginning of what?" Tara's eyes rested on Thomas. Seated at the end of the table, her youngest son looked every bit the moody parallel to her silent emotions. His golden hair coiled loosely about his head. She could tell her son hadn't slept all night; he was so different from Abel. Abel was cool and composed, despite his sleepless night; Thomas was a loose cannon. He was Tara all over again. Jax, she realized, for all his biker past, was more emotionally rational than she was. Abel was his father; hell, he was probably a little of Wendy too. That woman could reign in emotion easily. It had always been a struggle for Tara.

Will rested a smooth, dark hand on his lover's arm. Thomas stared into Will's eyes, and Tara watched as her son immediately relaxed beneath the other man's touch. It was a healing balm to Tara's soul. She knew where Jax's story was going to lead, and she knew that Thomas would be the one that would struggle most. He'd always been so scattered, so anxious. Tara was grateful for Will Latrie. He would be the reason that would infiltrate her younger son's madness.

"The beginning of the insanity," Jax answered. His beautiful blue eyes were soaked with unspoken pain as continued. "What I have to tell you is something I never once thought I'd have to repeat. I thought the words would follow your mother and me to our graves, and you would be safe then. Nothing could hurt you once we were gone. We are your only link to the madness."

"You're speaking in circles, Pop, in prose," Abel's voice broke Jax's flow. "Don't give us a story. Give us the truth. Whatever it is, we can take it. We will take it, as a family."

Tara's heart swelled with pride as she watched her eldest son. _What an amazing man you've turned out to be_. Abel sat on the other side of Thomas, across from Will. Hannah sat at his side. Their chairs were squeezed tightly together, and Abel's arm held his bride. Tara noticed that her new daughter-in-law looked just as nervous as she felt. _Abel said she'd had a rough night._ Tara could only imagine. The poor girl's dream wedding had turned into a nightmare. Tara looked around for Hannah's parents. They hadn't showed up. _I'm sure they're worried about intruding_ , Tara thought. After all, they hadn't been family for twenty-four hours yet, and Hannah was going to learn, along with the rest of them, that the lives they'd led were lies. Tara shook again and closed her eyes. It was too fucking much.

"I wish this were just a story," Jax quietly stated. The door swung open, once again interrupting Jax's confessions. Tara turned to see the Sinclairs enter the room. James, dressed impeccably in his standard suit and tie, gazed apologetically at Jax and Tara. Sarah, even though she was just as perfectly coifed as her husband, looked as exhausted as their daughter did.

"I'm sorry we are late," James apologized. Jax nodded with an accepting smile and gestured for them to sit. They took the chairs next to Hannah. Now the doctor and his wife sat next to Tara. Sarah's gardenia fragrance made Tara's head ache. It was as if the woman had practically bathed in it. Tara dug her nails into her palms. The pain distracted from the smell.

"Like I was saying," Jax continued. "I wish this were a story. I wish that the man you found last night had been a stranger, but I'd be lying if I said he was."

"Who was he, Daddy?" Lala's voice rose from the quiet that surrounded them. "How did you know him?"

Jax inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears. _This is it,_ he thought. _This is the moment I rip my family into shreds._ He felt Tara's fingers link into his. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised at the tears that flowed from them. Through the haze, he saw his family, his beautiful, wonderful family, and his heart felt as if it would explode within his chest. _It's now or never. Just rip the goddamned Band-Aid off, Teller._

"His name was Filip Telford, but your mother and I always called him Chibs," Jax said with a sad, distant smile. His eyes turned to Tara for a moment. She met his eyes, and even though fear rested within them, she nodded and tightened her grip on his hand, urging him to continue.

"I grew up knowing Chibs," Jax explained. "He was part of my father's club- The Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. We called it SAMCRO. Chibs was one of its members, and I was its heir."

Tara watched as Jax spun his tale. He skimmed over his early childhood, over his younger brother Thomas' death. His voice changed as talked. When he spoke of Clay, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. When Piney or Bobby or Tig or Happy came into the story, his demeanor lightened dramatically. Even Gemma was met with a nostalgic tone and a wistful grin. Jax left holes in the story, unsure of what to tell them, but they listened, transfixed, as he spoke. He detailed meeting Tara.

"It was the best day of my life," Jax said with a smile. "I'll never forget the moment I saw her. I was lost, and Donna—oh God, Donna knew. She knew I was done."

"Donna's husband was your father's best friend," Tara said as she intercepted the story. "But long before they were married, Donna was his girlfriend, and she was one of your dad's closest friends too."

"Who was her husband, Mama? Tig? Bobby? Happy?" Lala questioned. Tara's eyes fell on her ginger haired child, and unable to stop the deluge, Tara allowed herself to cry. Jax cried with her. "No, honey, he was another biker, the son of the co-founder of SAMCRO. He was Piney's son. His name was Harry, but we never called him that. In our eyes, he was always just Opie."

Ophelia's eyes widened in amazement. "You mean—I'm not named after some stupid tv show?"

Tara shook her head. "No, honey. We named you after your father's best friend. He died a long time ago. He was very young."

"How?" Opie asked, intrigued. Questions filled her mind, but looking at Jax, she quickly swallowed them. Her father's eyes were distant and haunted, and his lips trembled. He opened his mouth to answer her question, but no words came. Just the echoes of Opie's last words— _I got this_ —rang in his ears. He stared into Ophelia's gray eyes, lost.

"That is a story that will be told later, Opie," Tara stated firmly. "It's important, but it drowns in so many backstories. If we told you everything that led up to even your birth-" Tara sighed, overwhelmed. "We'd be here for days. Your father is trying to explain why Chibs was here last night. I promise you—we have time for the stories. Your father and I just have to figure out how to explain it all."

Far from satisfied by her mother's answers, Opie wanted nothing more than to drill Tara for information, but her father's eyes stopped her. The agony was palpable, and she knew that the story would simply have to wait.

"There came a time where SAMCRO sank into crimes I would have never once imagined us committing," Jax shakily picked up where Tara left off. "In that time, Clay affiliated us with other rival gangs. I won't lie to you—we did some fucked up things—things that led to unimaginable tragedy. Guns and drugs and violence unparalleled—it ruled my life. I went to prison for awhile, and after that, your mother wanted us free from it. She begged me over and over and over again to get out, but every single time I tried to escape, I was pulled back in."

"People were dying," Tara said. "All around us. It began with Donna—"

"Opie's wife?" Ophelia asked, shocked.

"Yes, Opie's wife," Tara replied. "Her murder was the catalyst to everything that happened. The bodies just kept coming—Half-Sack was killed by the Irish." Tara closed her eyes in punctuation of that sentence. Memories of Abel's kidnapping flooded her. She shrugged them away and continued. "Luanne, Piney, Dawn, Opie, Otto—" It was a death cadence as she whispered. "Gemma, Juice, Wendy, Unser, Chuckie, Nero—and now, Chibs."

"Once the body count began rising, I knew the danger was mounting, but your mother was pulled in and framed for a crime she didn't commit," Jax reiterated. Tara just clutched at his hand, head bowed. "And I was in a helluva spot. I agreed to go to prison to protect her—and the club. I said my goodbyes. Your mom and I planned to meet at our house, so I could turn myself in—but Fate, that ever duplicitous bitch—intervened."

"Gemma was dead," Tara explained. "She'd been murdered, and I had been badly beaten." Jax's eyebrows raised. He'd expected Tara to explain Gemma's part in the beating. His eyes screamed an unspoken question of _why_ , but Tara continued, oblivious. "And within a couple of months, I learned I was pregnant with you girls."

"I knew we had to get out," Jax finished. "Especially after another man ended up trying to kill your mother. Izzy went after her when she was eight months in. It resulted in Opie and Lala being born prematurely." Jax looked at his girls, tears falling once more. "I almost lost all three of you. My girls. I couldn't do it. I wanted no part of SAMCRO. None at all. Just after Opie and Lala were born, Tara and I decided to get out."

"You turned Witness Protection," Abel said solemnly. Tara's heart hammered against her ribs. She turned to Jax, and he nodded. The secret was out. It was all Tara could do to keep breathing. Her forehead was bathed in sweat, and her palms were clammy.

"We did," Jax answered. "We turned WitSec. I gave information to the DA, Tyne Patterson, and in return, she relocated us to Silver Spring. We were given new identities, new careers, new lives. For all that SAMCRO knows, you kids, your mother, and I are dead."

"What about Chibs?" Abel asked. "How did he find you?"

"I couldn't leave without him knowing. I knew Chibs would take the secret to his grave. He was the only one outside law enforcement that knew about us."

"So why didn't he take it to the grave, as you thought he would?" Thomas questioned. Tara was shocked to hear his voice. There was no panic, just calm. It was strange.

"There was a threat against my family," Jax responded. "I had a sister, Trinity, that lived in Ireland. Chibs came to me to inform me that she was murdered, and the only people that could have pulled off killing a Teller were the Irish Kings. He thought that they were after us—and after last night, I realize just how right he was."

"A Teller?" Lala asked. "Is that your real last name?" Tara was astounded at how well her young daughter listened. "You said you had to change everything, Daddy. Were you a Teller? Are we Tellers?"

"I am a Teller," Jax proclaimed. "Jackson Nathaniel Teller. Your mother was born Tara Grace Knowles."

"But when we're alone, he calls me Tara Teller," Tara followed. "And I didn't realize until this very moment how much I missed it."

"My name is Abel Teller." The words came from the other side of the table. Jax and Tara watched as their oldest son stood, eyes wide and confused and scared. The young man turned faced them, his blue eyes speaking volumes.

"You remember," Tara said softly, and Abel nodded.

"I do," he said low. "Not everything, but I do. I remember the motorcycles. I remember Chibs. He had an accent. I remember a garage. I remember you Mama, dressed in all green, all the time—I remember—" Abel struggled to keep his composure as he turned his eyes to his younger brother. With quivering lips and crying eyes, Abel stared. "You're Tommy. Thomas. Your name is Thomas Teller."

"After Pop's little brother," Thomas exhaled. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, but it passed quickly. _Don't freak out,_ he told himself. _Look at them. Ada—Abel is breaking down. Mom and Pop are shattered. If you lose your shit, you'll make this even worse. Don't make this worse._ Instead of speaking, Thomas stood and walked to his older brother. Without speaking, he wrapped the older man in a tight embrace.

"I got you," Thomas brokenly whispered. "I got you, Brother. You're not gonna lose us." Hannah, openly weeping, then followed Thomas' lead. Gripping as much of her husband as she could in her tiny embrace, Hannah pressed herself against Abel's back. The three of them silently rocked back and forth as everyone watched.

"Were we always Lala and Opie, Mama?" Opie's voice quivered as she spoke. She and her twin hadn't moved. Even now, Lala watched her brothers and sister-in-law hold one another. Lala felt Victor's hand on her knee. Under the table, her free hand overlapped his. She didn't hold his hand; she just rested hers atop his in a temporary respite, a reminder that she was still alive, even though her soul wanted to tell her otherwise.

Tara swallowed hard as she looked at her daughters. Neither girl cried, and for some reason, it made Tara incredibly proud. _They're so fucking tough._

"Your big brother Abel gave Lala her name," Tara explained. "Delylah is incredibly hard to say when you're five."

Delylah's mouth gaped open. "My name is Delylah?" Tara nodded in response. "Where did that come from?"

"Opie's first and second wives," Jax answered. "The _D_ was for Donna, and Opie's second wife, Lyla, was an amazing friend to us. Your father named you. Delylah Grace Teller. _Grace_ was my mother's name."

"And your middle name," Lala stated quietly.

"Yes," Tara said, overcome with memories. "She died when I was young. Before I met your father."

A chord struck within Lala. _Delylah Grace._ It was a beautiful name. _No wonder I never liked Laura._ The name had never been her own. It made sense, and it was an amazing feeling to have that kind of legacy. She looked at Opie, who stared back with a strange gaze. The twin connection was there, but neither girl could shake the feeling that everything they'd known before was now new and foreign.

"So—Opie is?" Delylah asked, and Tara smiled nostalgically.

"I named you, Opie," Tara stated. "You were born Ophelia Rose Teller. We shortened your nickname to Opie in honor of your father's best friend. _Rose_ was Gemma's middle name. It was also your father's grandmother's name."

"Ophelia Rose," Opie whispered. The name turned over and over again, and Opie wasn't completely sure she liked it. It was so exotic and strange. _Maybe I just need to get used to it._

"So what happens now?" James Sinclair's stringent voice broke the emotion of the room. Abel, Hannah, and Thomas broke their embrace to stare at the shocked physician. Hannah's mother looked faint.

"Chibs' partner, Althea, and their son will be coming to take Chibs back to Charming," Jax said coolly. He didn't like the doctor's tone of voice. _Does he not see what my family is going through?_

"And my daughter?" James questioned. "Do we annul this farce of a marriage?"

"Dad!" Hannah exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?" James Sinclair stood and glared at Abel.

"This whole fucking family is a lie," he cursed. "I don't want you part of it. You'll annul this marriage immediately, and you'll come back to Silver Spring with us."

"No I won't!" Hannah cried. "Adam had nothing to do with this. He's never lied to me. Not once. He can't control what happened to him or to his parents. My husband did nothing wrong, and I'm not going any goddamned where!"

"Are you delusional, Hannah? His name isn't even _Adam._ It's Abel. And his father was once the head of a gang—a gang that is trying to kill them now! Your wedding ended with a dead body! I will not have you be the next victim!"

"I'm not leaving," Hannah stated. "I will not walk away from him. Not now."

"You will, or you'll walk away from us," James Sinclair firmly stated.

"There it is, the ultimatum. Way to go, James." Everyone turned and stared at Victor. His eyes were ominous as he stared at his father. "The same one that came when I decided to be a Marine."

"Shut up Victor," James warned, his eyes furious.

"If it weren't for Hannah, I could've walked away," Victor said. "Now that you're telling her to leave, I won't have to deal with your elitist bullshit anymore."

"Fuck you," James seethed. "I offered you everything on a silver platter. You're the one that decided to become a fucking grunt."

"This fucking grunt could snap you like a goddamned twig," Victor said with a cold, evil smile. He stood and leaned across the table. His face was mere inches from his father's as he frigidly whispered, "Fuck with me, old man. I'll crush those lily-white doctor hands to a pulp."

Tara winced as Victor spoke. She instinctively cradled the hand Clay's goons crushed all those years ago. _The memories. Goddamn these memories._ Tara closed her eyes and began to rock slowly. She didn't see James stand and move closer to his son.

"Try it," James snarled. "Your whole fucking universe will end."

"Stop it!" Sarah screamed. "James, just stop! You've done enough!"

"Shut the fuck up," James fumed. "This _bastard_ basically spit in my face."

"No, I didn't," Victor stated calmly. Before James could open his mouth to argue, Victor spit, covering his father's face in saliva. A look of triumph covered the Marine's face as Sarah and Hannah both gasped, shocked. James jumped the table, almost knocking Opie and Lala to the ground. His hand grabbed Victor's collar.

"See!" Victor yelled as he was slammed against the floor. "You're no better than this _grunt_!" The men rolled on the floor and Abel, Thomas, and Lucius raced to break up the brawl. "You're no different than these _lying bikers_ you want Hannah to leave! You want to _kill me_ , don't you James?! _Don't you?!"_

A fist slammed into Victor's jaw before the younger man flipped his father over and grabbed him by the throat. Before Abel could reach him, Victor crushed his father's cheek with a sickening blow.

"Please make it stop!" Hannah screamed. Abel and Thomas grabbed Victor and ripped him from James.  
Lucius made it to the now unconscious doctor. His perfect face was badly wounded. The bruises had already made themselves more than apparent. Tara had rushed to Hannah's side to ensure her safety, because Sarah had somehow rushed out during the fight. Will went to Opie and Lala. Thomas and Abel were busy calming Victor.

In the midst of the fray, of the insanity, the huge double doors, left slightly ajar from Sarah's stealthy exit, opened further. Jax's eyes, unsure of where to look, focused on the person entering. _Althea._ She had hardly aged in the eighteen years that had passed. He'd talked to her in the wee hours of the morning. _How the fuck did she get here so fast?_ Jax looked at his watch. It was after two in the afternoon. _Jesus Christ._ Time had rushed away.

Before he could curb the madness, a young boy walked in. Standing next to Althea, it was impossible to not realize who he was. _John Jackson Jarry_. He was tall, with midnight black hair and almost black eyes. He was lanky and fair and absolutely beautiful. _Oh God, Chibs, your boy—_ Jax's eyes refilled with tears as Althea walked across the room. The young man was glued in place. The maylay continued. Abel and Thomas yelled at Victor—Hannah was sobbing—The girls were upset—The only other person that even noticed Althea's presence was Tara, but that was no surprise to Jax. His wife didn't miss a beat—ever.

Somehow, Tara had managed to pull herself away from Hannah. Abel had wandered back to his wife's arms after he and Thomas had tamed Victor's boiling fury to a quiet anger. Abel soon realized that the true reason for the soldier's calm was Lala, who now sat at his side. As Abel looked at Hannah, he was immediately grateful for her.

"You fought for me," he whispered incredulously, as he pulled her tight.

"I love you," Hannah whispered back.

Abel scanned the rest of the room. Opie quietly tended to that asshole Dr. Sinclair. Thomas, Will, and Lucius helped her. Everything had relaxed and died down as quickly as it had exploded.

Tons of fires had burned into embers, and Jax was glad he didn't have to extinguish them all. Across the room was a widow and a son—neither of which knew what had transpired before their arrival. As Jax made his way to them, Tara joined him. A light of recognition lit in Althea's eyes, but Jax also saw the fear, the grief, and the unyielding sadness. Before she had the opportunity to speak, Jax enveloped her in a careful, but strong embrace. Tara's arms followed. After all, this woman was Chibs' old lady, and that made her family. To his surprise, the tough as nails sheriff he remembered disappeared. In her place was a weeping, grieving woman. Without a word, Althea pulled her son into the hug.

Jax and Tara's children fell silent as they watched them. No one could speak or breathe or move. It was a beautiful scene, an almost magical one that unfolded before them, causing them all to put their own emotions aside. Nothing else mattered as they watched Jax, Tara, Althea, and John stand there, embracing one another and crying for the man Chibs had been.


	14. Chapter 14

"Here you go, John," Thomas' voice was tight as he placed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of Chibs' son. The cook was gracious enough to allow Thomas and Will the run of the kitchen. The events of last night had shaken the staff, but Jax and Tara were well-loved and well-respected repeat customers. Favors as simple as these were easy.

"Thanks," John murmured. Thomas looked at the young man. At fifteen, he was almost as tall as Thomas, but he was reed thin. There was no fat on him, just elegantly stretched muscle. His face was still boyish, but the beginnings of Chibs' well-defined jaw were apparent. His midnight black hair fell over his wary and grieving dark eyes. Thomas could feel the pain pouring off the kid, and his heart immediately broke for him.

Will watched as Thomas busied himself by pouring the boy a glass of milk. It was the first time he'd really seen any interaction between Thomas and a kid. It warmed his heart. Thomas hovered carefully, making sure John was comfortable. Even though he knew the kid less than an hour, Thomas' fatherly nature had made its presence known. Will welcomed it. He'd often dreamed of the day he and Thomas would marry. Even though Will knew children were a much-wanted part of his own future, he worried that Thomas wouldn't feel the same. He was incredibly relieved to see this side of his beloved.

"Is there anything I can do?" Will quietly asked. John's almost ebony eyes were huge as they stared at the older man. Will could see the remnants of tears on John's alabaster skin. The poor kid's eyes were teary and bloodshot as they spoke volumes. _Can you bring my dad back? Can you stop this pain? Can you make this horrible nightmare go away?_

"No, thank you," John answered. "The sandwich is plenty." It was actually the first thing he'd eaten since he heard his mother's sobs. He was in the kitchen when the phone had rang. He heard Althea pick it up, but he busied himself with a late night snack. When he heard Althea's tears, the snack was forgotten, and he went to investigate.

The two bedroom house John and Althea shared was a modest one, but it was well-kept and extremely clean. As John crossed the kitchen and entered the attached living room, he saw Althea leaning against the wall. She shivered as she cried, and immediately John knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. Althea Jarry was not a crier. She was an amazing sheriff, and she even though she was a strict mother, she was kind and loving, but the one thing Althea wasn't was emotional. John could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his mother cry. The previous night was one of them, and he'd never forget it.

He watched as Althea hung up the phone. He watched as she began to sink to the floor, but she looked up, and seeing John standing before her, she stopped. Her sepia eyes overflowed with tears as she stood upright and walked towards him.

"What's wrong, Ma?" John heard his voice crack as he spoke.

"It's Da, Johnny," she quaked. "I just got a call. We have to get on a plane and get to North Carolina. Your father has been shot." Her lips trembled and tears began anew. "He's gone, baby. I'm so sorry."

"He's—dead?" Shock pulsed through the young man's heart as he stared blankly at his mother. Althea nodded. The irony didn't escape her. Chibs had lived through a Glasgow grin at the hands of Jimmy O'Phelan, countless near-death experiences through SAMCRO and the IRA, and it was a bullet at a wedding that ended it all. The thought was both heartbreaking and infuriating.

"Yeah, baby," Althea whispered. "Your Da is dead."

John didn't scream or rage. Silent tears traced his cheeks as his mother held him. They rocked back and forth as the truth settled in his mind. His heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest. Nausea churned in his gut as he processed the reality of it. All emotion and sensation had left it. Numb was an appropriate word to describe John Jackson Jarry. Even now, with Thomas and Will standing near him, he felt utterly alone, but the loneliness didn't even register in his brain; he was too busy trying to breathe.

Althea Jarry would have been relieved to see her son eating. She worried that he was going to grieve his way into oblivion. Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was a reminder to survive. Survival was the only thing on her mind as she discussed Chibs' burial arrangements with Jax and Tara.

"There's a plot next to Opie and Donna," Althea's voice was ragged with too many tears. "Chibs bought it long ago."

 _We canna live forever, Althea love._ The words stabbed her as she thought of him. She wagered the pain would always be there. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

"Do you need help with the arrangements?" Tara asked. Althea's eyes opened as she shook her head.

"I'm figuring that out now," Althea responded. "I have to tell the club, but I'm going to do that once we determine how to get Filip back to Charming. I don't know how I'm going to do it—I just keep wishing this wasn't real. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I didn't have to be alone."

"You're not alone," Tara stated. She grabbed Althea's hands. "You have us. Jax and me."

Althea pulled her hands away. "What can you do? Can you go back to Charming? Let everyone know you and Jax are still living? That's ridiculous."

"Like Jax said, our cover is blown. There will be no more Witness Protection. "

"It doesn't matter," Althea retorted. "You don't belong there anymore."

"Like hell we don't," Tara all but growled. Jax's eyes widened with surprise. "I walked away from Charming eighteen years ago to protect my family, but obviously, that doesn't make a difference. If I'd know that it'd eventually come back to haunt me, I would have stayed and faced it head-on. I thought we made a clean break. Clearly, that wasn't the case."

"So now you're just going to throw it all away?" Althea questioned. "You could always find another place to hide. They'll help you." Her brown eyes were anguished and tired. "This isn't the first time someone's cover was blown, Tara."

"My kids are adults now. How do you propose we get them into WitSec? What about Will Latrie and Hannah? They're involved in this too, as are Hannah's parents. What do you propose we do, Althea? Bring them _all_ along? That's not conspicuous at all."

"I'm just trying to protect your family, Tara," Althea said quietly. "Filip would have wanted that."

"Chibs would want us to do right by you and John as well," Jax's voice broke in.

"Have you not stopped to think about the club?" Althea fired back. "Filip and I were the only ones that knew about you and Tara, and now you want to waltz in and tell everyone you've been alive this whole time?"

"Althea, you have to understand—"

"No Jax, I don't have to understand. Bobby is seventy-eight years old and his heart sucks. Tig will have to step into Filip's place, and Happy will be VP. You walking back into their lives isn't what anyone needs. It's just added stress."

Jax could not be deterred. "Look, I know you lost the man you loved, but I loved him too. As much as I want to protect SAMCRO, I want to find the bastards that took Chibs away from us."

"You've been gone eighteen years, Jackson," Althea spit. "Chibs was gone from you long ago. Don't the last few weeks fool you. There's no way you—"

"No way that he could what?" Tara interrupted. "There's no way my husband could grieve like you do? You couldn't be more wrong. Chibs was his brother long before he was ever your man. It doesn't matter how many years have passed; when Chibs showed up on our doorstep, it was as if eighteen years disappeared, and they picked up exactly where they left off."

"Aren't you worried about your family?" Althea asked. Tara's eyes flashed with frustration. "Aren't you worried about what will happen?"

"Aren't you worried about yours?" Jax replied. "It doesn't matter if we're here or in Charming, someone is after us, and they will find us all. You're more vulnerable, because all you have is a SAMCRO connection you can't even make public. Tara and I have a huge family. If anything, whomever is doing this will _expect_ Tara and I to go to Charming. If we don't go with you, then we're luring them to North Carolina, to our family. If we go with you, they're going to follow. I'm sure you can pull some strings and have them protected while we're gone, am I wrong?"

Althea balled her hands into fists. Deep down, she knew Jax was right. It really didn't matter where Jax and Tara were; these people had managed to kill Chibs at Abel's wedding. The perpetrator was dangerous, no matter where the Tellers landed. He was right; there were plenty of favors she could call in. She had connections everywhere. That part would be easy. _Maybe if you'd listened to me, Filip, and let me use my connections long ago, you would be alive. Fuck, you were a stubborn one, content to handle this mess alone. You wouldn't let me do anything. You should've never come here._ She fought tears as she wondered what would've happened if she'd listened to her instincts. _I'd rather have you mad than dead, Filip._

"I can," Althea said. She felt her resolve crumbling. "But I can just as easily ask them to protect John and me too."

Jax's nostrils flared in frustration. "You don't get it, do you? I _want_ to go. I _want_ to say goodbye to this man. He died protecting my family. The least we can do is go back and lay him to rest." Jax's lips quivered and his voice almost broke with that sentence. Tara reached out and grabbed his hand. The fear that lingered in her no longer mattered. She knew her husband needed to return to Charming, and a tiny part of her wanted to return to Charming too.

"Fine," Althea relented. "You're not going to take _no_ for an answer. You're going to come no matter what I say, right?"

Jax nodded.

"Fine. I'll talk to my people and arrange protection for your kids." It was settled. Jax locked eyes with Tara. It was hard to believe that the woman sitting by his side was the woman that, just a few hours ago, feared going back to Charming. He thought Tara would fight. He was surprised to find the fear and anxiety was gone, and in its place was a hardened, sure-footed resolve. _Did seeing Althea change your mind? Or was it John?_

The door to the room creaked open. Jax, Tara, and Althea turned in the direction of the sound. Hannah stood in the doorway. She hadn't changed or done anything with her hair, and Tara noticed a slight greenish tinge to her complexion. _Poor thing,_ Tara thought, _The stress must be killing her._ Tara stood and walked towards her daughter-in-law.

"What's wrong, Hannah?" the older woman asked. Hannah shook her head. She was visibly distraught. Her hand trembled as she raised it to her head.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," Hannah apologized. "But I needed someone."

"Where's Ad—Abel?" Tara asked. Part of her wanted to laugh. She always tried not to slip up with their names before, but now, she still used their WitSec names. The irony was too much.

"He's trying to go after them," she said. Her silvery eyes matched the clouds outside.

"Who?" Tara asked.

"My parents," Hannah stated sadly. Her eyes welled up with tears as she looked up at her mother-in-law. Sympathy rushed over Tara.

"Honey, we are all leaving today," Tara whispered, but all it took was one look at Hannah's face, and Tara knew it was so much more than that.

"Yeah, but—" Hannah stumbled over her words. "They didn't even say goodbye. I tried to talk to them—and Daddy just ignored me. Mama wouldn't even talk. They just walked away like—like I didn't even exist. Adam—I mean Abel—was pissed. He's going after my dad."

"Fuck, not again," Tara cursed. "Jax!" Jax turned around and glanced in Tara's direction, but she was already running out the door with Hannah hot on her heels. Jax jumped from his chair and followed, unsure of what's going on. Althea remained behind, unsure of what to do.

Tara made it outside as James and Sarah Sinclair waited for their chauffeur. _Of course you'd have a damned driver,_ Tara inwardly seethed. _Pretentious fucks._ After James and Victor's altercation earlier, Tara had no desire to deal with either James or Sarah. Abel stood before them, his face a mask of righteous Jax Teller anger. His nostrils flared, and his teeth clenched. His chest was puffed up, and his fists were clenched and ready to fight. Tara's heart beat faster. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.

"You can't even say goodbye?" Abel yelled. Tara's stomach lurched. _God, another fucking fight. We're never going to be allowed back here again._ "You're just going to throw Hannah away, all because of my family?"

James Sinclair said nothing. His face was swollen and purple as a result of Victor's punches. His left eye was almost swollen shut, and he looked awful. Sarah Sinclair didn't look much better. Even though her face was free of bruises and cuts, her eyes were red and swollen. It was obvious she'd been crying. Her face was makeup-free and blotchy. They were far from the powerful and regal couple from the night before. Tara now realized the happy couple picture they'd painted over the last seven years was nothing but a façade.

"She loves you!" Abel all but screamed as he stood face-to-face to with James Sinclair. Tara heard Jax behind her, and she watched helplessly as he flew by her.

"Get out of my face," James warned.

"What are you going to do?" Abel challenged. The sky was darkening, and the thick humidity precluded a storm. In the distance, Tara could see flashes of lightning. The wind picked up and ripped at her clothes.

"What are you doing, son?" Jax asked. He stood by James and Abel, and unlike his son, he was nothing but calm.

"I'm trying to figure out how my wife came out of this bastard," Abel yelled. "I mean, you and Mom just drop this shit on us, and instead of being sympathetic or worried about this is hurting us, he turns his back. Hannah doesn't deserve this. She didn't do anything wrong."

James and Sarah remained silent. Tara searched for their car. _Please let that driver hurry the hell up._

"You can't even utter a word?" Abel's chest was touching James' chest, and Tara heard Hannah whimper next to her. Tara pulled the girl in close. Hannah was trembling terribly, despite the heat.

"Get. The. Hell. Away. From. Me." Each word that fell from James Sinclair's lips was a tight staccato. Abel didn't listen. He just moved closer. Tara recognized Abel's sarcastic grin. She'd seen Jax smile like that on many occasions.

"Or what, doc?" Abel countered. "You gonna throw me to the ground like you did Victor?"

"Abel, back up," Jax ordered. Abel ignored his father. The fury was too great; Abel was incensed that Hannah's parents would behave this way. In the seven years he'd been in Hannah's life, he'd never once seen this side of them. It was as if they were different people. Everything about them had changed.

"No," Abel whispered menacingly. "I want to know why."

"You really want to know?" James asked. A cold, calculating grin spread across his lips.

"Yeah, I do," Abel replied. Tara breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the car approach over the hill. _Hurry up,_ she urged.

"I don't associate with _trash_ ," James whispered. "And when Hannah chose you over us, she chose trash." It took everything Abel had not to punch James. He backed up as if he'd been burned as Jax's palms twitched. Both Tellers wanted to deliver a beat down of epic proportions.

"You don't associate with trash?" Abel repeated.

"You heard me," James growled. Tara watched with bated breath as the car pulled in front of the house. Judging by the expression her husband's face, the conversation was not going well. She watched as Abel backed away, his hands raised in surrender. Abel's aggravation was plain; that didn't change. She watched as James and Sarah pulled their bags toward the car. The chauffeur got out the car and loaded the bags. As the doctor and his wife got into the car, Abel and Jax made their way towards Tara and Hannah. The car silently slipped away, its taillights faded in the distance.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," Tara said as she kissed the girl's forehead. Hannah said nothing; she just watched as her husband and father-in-law approached.

"It's okay," she said quietly.

"No, it's not," Abel stated firmly. "It's not okay. Your dad is a piece of shit."

"Son," Jax began, and Abel held his hand up.

"No Dad," Abel said. "Don't try and sugarcoat it. Don't tell her it's gonna get better. It may not." Jax nodded. His son was right. James Sinclair was a tricky son of a bitch, and the events of the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll on everyone. Maybe James would see the error of his ways. Maybe he wouldn't.

"What are we gonna do now?" Hannah asked. Just like Abel, her whole world had completely crumbled. Just a day ago, her parents seemed happy, and she was a bride. Just a day ago, everyone loved one another. They were a family. Today, she was still a bride, but she was basically, for all intents and purposes, an orphan.

"We're going to go home, Hannah," Abel said. Gently, he pulled his wife from his mother's grasp. "We're going to pack our things and go back to the apartment. Fuck the honeymoon in the Outer Banks; let's just stay home and relax. You can't be traipsing across the state like this, especially with the baby—" Abel stopped talking as Hannah closed her eyes. They'd discussed this the night before. They wanted to wait until everything calmed down before they said anything.

Tara's mouth opened in shock as she listened to Abel stop himself. Her hazel eyes were glossy as she looked to Jax. He'd heard it too.

"What did you say?" Tara gasped. "Did you say baby?" Jax moved towards his wife, an idiotic smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, he did," Hannah sighed with a wary smile. "I'm pregnant-eight weeks. I just told him last night—before all the screaming."

"I'm going to be a grandfather?" For once in Jax Teller's life, he was humbled. His best friend was gone. His kids knew the truth about them. His entire life was in complete and total disarray, and insanity reigned, but in the midst of all that, a new, tiny life was created. _My first grandbaby,_ he thought. His eyes drifted to Tara. She was open mouthed and speechless.

"Please don't tell anyone else," Abel requested. He was upset that he'd let their secret slip, but the look on Jax's face was priceless. "We don't want anyone to know until we know everything is okay. With all the chaos, we just want everything to be good before the family knows."

Jax nodded in agreement. " We won't say anything." He enveloped Abel and Hannah in a tight and loving embrace. "I'm so fucking happy for you." That bright, beautiful grin was infectious, and before they realized it, both Hannah and Abel were smiling too. Only Tara was quiet.

"You okay, Mama?" Abel asked. She nodded and tremulously smiled.

"Of course I am," she whispered. "I'm just—shocked, that's all. It's a lot, you know?"

Hannah nodded. "I do know. But I also know that I'm going to need you, now more than ever. You may just be the only grandmother this baby has." That statement caught Tara off guard, but she knew it was true. With a gentle smile, she embraced Hannah.

"And I'll be the best grandma I can possibly be," Tara whispered. The sky had turned bleak and rain began to fall. As Hannah and Abel rushed inside, Tara and Jax followed. As they entered the chateau, Tara stopped at looked at Jax. He stared back at her. He was beautiful; there was no denying that. He didn't look anywhere close to what a grandfather should look like, but she thought, she looked too young to be a grandmother. Abel and Hannah walked upstairs hand-in-hand. Both Jax and Tara turned and watched as they walked away.

Everything became real. They were going to Charming. They were going to be grandparents. There was a whole new realm of insanity ahead. Tara slipped her hand in Jax's.

"We're going to be grandparents," Tara whispered incredulously.

"I know," Jax whispered back.

The whole thing was surreal. Tara never imagined being a grandma, and for a moment, she wondered why. It was then that the reason appeared, clear as day. She'd never imagined being a grandmother because she'd never thought she'd live long enough to see her grandchildren grow. She realized now she wanted nothing more than to see that. That baby was the only thought that registered in her mind as she prayed.

 _Please God, let them be safe. Keep Jax and I protected as we make our way to Charming. I have to come back to them. I have to see that baby be born._ As Jax's fingers tightened around hers, she prayed harder.

 _Please God, let me live long enough to see that little one come into the world._


	15. Chapter 15

"I hate that sonofbitch," Victor said low. The venom that spewed from his lips caught Delylah off guard as she packed her small suitcase.. He watched as his parents' car sped away from the vineyard. He'd watched the scene below, and it took every fiber of his being to stay put. Seeing Hannah's tears and Abel's fury shattered his soul. Victor loved his little sister, and he had huge respect for Abel. Victor loved the way Abel cared for and cherished Hannah. _Someone has to do it_ , he thought.

Victor's bags sat by the door as he stared out the window. Given all the nonsense from earlier, Delylah felt better having him with her. It wasn't that she was scared without him; she was scared for him. Flashes of Victor's murderous gaze flickered through her mind as her pulse quickened. He was raw, animal power as he struggled with his father. It was scary, but it was also exhilarating. She'd never seen family tear one another apart like that. She and Opie had some epic fights, but there was never the need to make people hurt like that. It was intense.

"Why?" Delylah asked. It was an obvious question. Victor inhaled deeply and turned to face the beautiful girl in front of him. Wisps of dark hair framed her ivory face, and her huge blue eyes captivated him as they stared. It was if she could see the depths of his soul. It was unsettling. No one had ever looked at him like that.

"He's the worst kind of man," Victor stated. "You don't want to know how bad he is." There was a huge part of him that longed to keep Delylah innocent. He was no fool—he knew she was wild. Hannah relayed many a story about Lala's party girl antics, but Victor knew the darkness that rested within his soul, and Hannah didn't need that kind of agony in her life. He was seasoned in it; he could handle it. He wasn't sure Delylah could.

Delylah closed the suitcase but didn't zip it. Slowly, she walked to him. She was bathed in the silvery lightning as the storm grew closer. It was almost black outside. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

"You can tell me," she whispered. Her body was inches from his. Her hands were on his chest, and it was hard as hell to not revel in her touch. _She's a kid, Victor,_ he admonished himself. He gently placed his hands on her wrists. He didn't move her hands; instead, his thumbs stroked her silken skin. He looked down.

"I want to," he admitted. Beneath Delylah's hands, his heart slammed against his sternum. She felt it.

"Look, my father just admitted his involvement in Witness Protection. In a matter of minutes, I've gone from being a simple mechanic's daughter to being part of a biker gang destiny. You were here after we found—" She swallowed hard. "That body. If I can trust you, why can't you trust me?"

Victor sighed. _Damn your intelligence,_ he thought. _This would be much easier if you weren't so goddamned logical._ He smiled. It was from joyous. If anything, it was broken and sad. His dark eyes met Delylah's blue ones, and he saw no artifice, no lies. He sat heavily in a chair, and he motioned for her to sit on the bed. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair, inhaled deeply, and began.

"My father wasn't always bad," Victor began. "I remember a time, when I was really small, that he loved me. It was before Hannah. I don't remember much, honestly, but I remember him hugging me and laughing with me. I remember him loving my mother dearly. But a time came where he was gone. Mama always told me he was off doing humanitarian missions—Doctors Without Borders kind of stuff. She said it was his calling. He'd be gone for months, then come home for a month or two."

"That must've been hard," Delylah said quietly. She couldn't imagine growing up without her father. Jax had always been a strong presence in the household. Even though she was dealing with her new truth, Delylah knew her father loved all of his children with all of his being. He loved Tara with everything he was. Delylah knew Jax's love was never a lie. She knew he would always be there. Despite all the lies her parents had told; she knew they'd die protecting their children.

"It was," Victor replied, "But I don't remember much of his absence, honestly. I just remember the divide between them. It got worse after Hannah was born."

"He was around for your mom while she was pregnant, right?" Delylah was confused for a moment. James Sinclair traveled around the world helping others when his wife needed him?

"Not really," Victor answered. "But he came home when Hannah arrived. I don't remember much about that. I don't remember Mama's pregnancy much—I just knew she was miserable and wanted that baby—and one day it happened. My sister was here. I was really too little to remember those details."

"Do you remember anything else now?" Lala asked. Victor shook his head in the negative.

"I think I've blocked it out. All I remember is how everything changed after Hannah was born." Victor looked down at his feet. "I remember James getting pissed at the smallest things. Any love he had was lost on me. He treated Mama different too—but he loved Hannah. He loved that girl to pieces."

"That must've been hard," Lala whispered. Her eyes watched as the storm began outside. Jet black clouds mixed with a charcoal gray sky. The rain now fell in torrents against the glass, and stunningly beautiful lightning illuminated everything. Delylah loved storms, especially wild ones like the one that waged outside.

"It was weird at first," Victor admitted. "James just kind of ignored me. He and Mama fought all the time, but I wasn't part of it until—" Victor's voice drifted off.

"Until what?" Delylah fearfully asked. It was almost as if she knew what Victor would say next.

"Hannah had to be three or so," Victor stated. "I was eight or nine. She and I were fighting over a stupid toy—a bear James had gotten her—but all I wanted was to see it. I ran off with it, and Hannah chased me. I ran to my room and tried to slam the door to throw her off, but I caught her fingers in it."

Delylah winced.

"They weren't broken, but Hannah cried. I hurt her terribly—her fingers were bruised and banged up. Mama tried her best to get to me first, but James heard the screams and—"

"He got to you first," Delylah finished. Victor nodded, closing his eyes.

"I remember him whipping his belt off and slamming it into my legs. Over and over again—he showed no mercy." Victor swallowed hard. The sound of his mother's screams haunted him even now. "I was convinced he was going to kill me."

"Did your mother stop him?" Delylah had moved from her seat on the bed and knelt before Victor. His eyes were still closed. She was astounded to see one lone tear fall down his cheek.

"No," he half-laughed, half-sobbed. "Hannah did."

Delylah exhaled. "How?"

"She threw herself atop me," Victor recalled. "At all of three years old, that little girl knew that bastard was wrong. She forgot all about that bear, about her aching fingers, and she saved me. I'll never forget it. Ever." Victor's dark eyes opened. Delylah wiped the tears away as they fell.

"Was that the only time it happened?" she asked. Victor shook his head.

"It was the last time it happened in front of Hannah."

"What about your mom?" Delylah questioned. A tight, angry smile lit Victor's face as the lightning flickered and the thunder rolled.

"She would walk away." A clip of sharp, agitated laughter fell from his lips. "She'd let him do it. Maybe it was better me than her. Who knows?"

"Is that why you joined the Marines?" Victor nodded.

"I'd rather fight terrorists than live with him," he responded. "I'd rather risk my life fighting for something I believe in than follow in the footsteps of a man I despise."

"So your parents disowned you?" Delylah was full of questions. "I mean—"

"No, they did. James was pissed when I joined. He thought I'd follow him in his doctor footsteps, and when I didn't, we fought, and that turned into an all out brawl. I guess old Jimmy underestimated how much I'd grown." Victor laughed.

"Then how did you come back?"

"My sister pulled me back in," Victor explained. "She and I always talked through calls or Skype or email or text. She sweet talked James into letting me see her 'important events'—graduation from high school, college—this wedding. I was content to stay away. "

Delylah's brow furrowed. She'd been at those graduations, and she never saw Victor there.

"I never sat with them," Victor explained in answer to her unspoken question. "Yesterday was the first time I'd really come that close to them since I walked away at eighteen."

"Why yesterday?"

"Your brother." Victor grinned again. "I'd met him years ago on one of my incognito trips home. We kept in touch. He wanted nothing more than to have me there. I came by his invitation."

Again, Delylah's brow furrowed. "But—just before you came up to the bridal suite—your fath—I mean, James—he made it seem like he was the one who surprised Hannah."

"Of course he did," Victor said, disgusted. "Your brother had to fill him in on the secret. Of course, James played the kind and doting father. He didn't want your family knowing he enjoyed beating the hell outta me. Plus, he probably figured he'd earn brownie points with Hannah if it was his idea. That sonofabitch."

Delylah sighed. Part of her was floored by Victor's admission, and part of her wasn't. She'd seen the explosion between the two Sinclair men. Fights like that didn't happen without fury and pain. They just didn't.

"So there you have it, Delylah," he murmured. Chills raced up her spine as he used her real name. It sounded so much better than the _Laura_ she'd grown up with—at least it did on his lips. "You have the truth. I'm the classic beat down kid done good story."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. You definitely deserved better," Delylah said quietly. A massive clap of thunder shook the windows and caught her off guard. It jolted her, and she stumbled slightly. Victor's strong hands caught her. She felt a hot blush travel up her throat and rest on her cheeks. She licked her lips as his hands burned through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Her breathing quickened, and before she had time to rethink it, she reached up, grabbed his face in her hands, and kissed him.

To her surprise, the kiss was returned. His tongue covered hers, sending delicious chills up her spine. When he broke away, he shocked her by pulling her into his lap, but she wasn't upset by it. His hands twined in her hair, causing it to spill around her shoulders. Her hands still cradled his face. His five o'clock shadow pricked her delicate fingertips. Around them, the thunder and lightning crashed, but all that mattered was what was happening to them.

Delylah had never felt that kind of attraction, that kind of sexual tension. She was always the aggressor, but as Victor continued his sweet assault on her lips, she was more than happy to be submissive.

"Delylah, we can't—" he began as they parted. She placed her lips back on his, and he was lost. _What is this girl doing to me? She's too young. Too innocent._ He'd seen things that waged war on his soul and on his conscience every single night. In the grand scheme of things, James Sinclair was the least of his worries.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," another voice broke through the silence. Delylah and Victor broke apart. As they turned towards the sound, they saw Opie's shocked face. They hadn't even heard her enter the room. Again, Delylah blushed. "I didn't know—I—uh—"

"What's up, Op?" Delylah tried valiantly to regain her composure, but all she really wanted was to relive the last few minutes over and over again. She stood and looked at her twin.

"Pop wanted me to come in and tell you they're staying another night here," Ophelia stammered. "They're booking a flight with that—"

"Althea?" Delylah was annoyed. Jax had introduced both the sheriff and her son after they'd arrived, and Opie couldn't even remember her name. Sometimes, Delylah wondered how she and Ophelia were sisters, much less twins. There were days Delylah realized just how opposite she and Opie were.

"Yeah, Althea," Opie responded. "They're going to fly out with her tomorrow—out to California."

"Why?" Delylah asked. It was Ophelia's turn to be annoyed. _Why even ask that? Pop told us that man was one of his best friends. Why wouldn't he go to the funeral?_

"He doesn't want Althea and her son going alone," Opie answered. "Mom is going too. They want us to head back to the house tomorrow and lie low while this pans out."

Delylah nodded. "So they're just gonna stay here another night and say goodbyes tomorrow?"

"Yep. Adam—I mean Abel—and Lu—Thomas are staying. Pop thinks it best that we do too."

Delylah turned to Victor. "Are you still leaving tonight? I'm sure your base will be looking for you if you didn't show."

Victor shook his head. "I have a job," he said. "I'm a Marine Reservist now. I went part-time after my last enlistment—a Weekend Warrior."

Ophelia's brows lifted in surprise. "What do you do then?" Her eyes narrowed and crossed her arms under her breasts.

"I'm a cop," he calmly answered. "California Highway Patrol, Inland Division." Delylah was impressed. Like her sister, she thought Victor was still a fully enlisted Marine.

"So don't you have to get back to that?" Opie interrogated. Delylah wanted to punch her twin in the throat. Victor handled her with ease.

"I took two weeks of vacation," Victor replied smoothly.

"But you said you were here for one night only," Opie stated. Delylah closed her eyes and breathed deeply. _Why are you questioning everything?_ She sighed. _It's not like you'll be focused on me anyway. You'll be too busy fucking Lucius to even know Victor is there._

"I took two weeks off to bum around," Victor explained. "I never planned on being here longer than that. But if you want me to stay—"

A light bulb went off in Delylah's head. "He can protect us while Mom and Pop are gone." Opie's lips tightened into a thin line. _No,_ she thought. _You and the soldier are going to fuck the whole time they're gone._

"It's just as much for Hannah as it is for us," Delylah countered. "Between her asshole parents and the dead man downstairs, she'd gonna need real family around."

 _Again with that logic,_ Victor thought as he admired Delylah's quick mind. _I can't fight any of that._

"It does make sense," Opie relented. "And I'll have Lucius too, so we'll be okay. After all, it doesn't look like they want us. They wanted the biker, and they got him."

"So are you staying?" Delylah asked as she again turned towards him. Victor nodded. Before, his intention was to split, but as he stared at Delylah Teller that intention straight to hell.

"I will," he replied. Opie stared at them both. She had no idea why she was so annoyed, but the feeling bubbled in her gut. "Anything I can do to help."

"We should tell Pop," Opie said. Delylah and Victor nodded in unison.

"We'll meet you downstairs," Delylah declared. "Can you give us a minute, Op?"

"Sure," Ophelia begrudgingly said. She turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I don't know what her problem is," Delylah sighed. "She's been all kinds of strange lately." Victor shrugged. He wasn't bothered by it. He walked towards Delylah and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"It's really no big deal," Victor smiled. "I'm still staying, even if she is _all kind of weird,_ but I have one request." His dark eyes were teasing as he gazed at her face.

"Name it," Delylah challenged with a slight, teasing grin. _It feels so good to be in your arms._

"I want to finish what we started." His eyes were pure, delicious fire as he stared into her face. Her breath caught. For a moment, she hesitated. _Does this even make sense? What if we start something we can't finish? What if he thinks I'm just a stupid little girl?_ Anxiety creeped into heart as she stared into his eyes. _Can I trust you?_

Judging from the the conversation that had just transpired, Delylah was almost sure she could entrust Victor Sinclair with her heart. There was only the tiniest sliver of fear within her, and she pushed it down. It was amazing how much could change in such a short time. Tomorrow, her parents would be on a plane to California to bury a man she'd never even known, and she faced the prospect of Victor staying with her. It was daunting, but she was grateful for him.

"Deal," she said low. The word was punctuated with a chaste kiss on Victor's lips. Shock waves reverberated through Victor's body. With that, Delylah pivoted on her heel and headed downstairs to talk to Jax, leaving the Marine speechless in her wake.

 _So this is what it's like,_ he thought as she disappeared down the stairs. _This is what it's like to fall in love._


	16. Chapter 16

The storm waged on well past midnight. Crackles of lightning punctuated the rolling thunder throughout the night, even after the rain stopped. Ophelia opened her eyes to another cloudy, dismal day, but she welcomed it. It matched her mood. She rolled over and reached out for Lucius, but he was gone. She sat up for a moment, and when she heard the shower running, she fell back against the pillows. Part of her wished he'd already gone downstairs. She needed time to think.

Thoughts of Delylah rushed over her. Opie couldn't get the image of Lala and Victor out of her head. To her, it made no sense. Victor was closer to thirty than he was to twenty, and he was a soldier. Lala's plan was to run off to New York and live a beautiful and fabulous life while she attended college. _Are you going to give that up, Lala?_ It was a question that plagued Ophelia, because after the events of the last couple days, she didn't know who or what she was, much less where she was heading in life.

Her plan was to attend Duke University in the fall, but so many questions filled her mind. _Do I use my Witness Protection name or my real name?_ Ophelia Teller. It was so exotic and otherworldly. It was a far cry from Cait Morgan, and it was eons away from Opie. _Do I change?_ She felt like she should. She felt like, with the name and the legacy, she should be different somehow. She closed her eyes and pictured herself in head to toe black, most of it leather. Her long, copper hair was loose and wild. She almost wanted to laugh aloud at the image, but a slight giggle left her lips instead. That's not how she saw herself. Ever.

"What's so funny?" Lala's voice penetrated her imagination and brought her crashing back to reality. She sat up quickly and saw her twin standing in the doorway.

"Can't you knock?" Opie asked. Annoyance edged her voice as she pulled the blanket over her camisole covered torso. Her gray eyes were cold as they met Delylah's.

"I figured that, if you were fucking, you'd have the intelligence to lock the door," Delylah drawled. She walked towards the bed and plopped by her twin. She was surprised to see Opie slightly recoil. "I mean, it's not like you have to hide anymore. Hell, you didn't really hide it all that well to begin with, but now with all the insanity going around, he's not gonna give a fuck about your boyfriend."

Opie coldly smiled. "I guess you're adopting the same philosophy with your traveling soldier?"

Delylah had the decency to blush, but her eyes were distant as she stared at her sister.

"Victor and I aren't together," Delylah stated coolly.

"Of course not," Opie sarcastically replied. "You don't have to worry about Mama and Daddy walking in when you always have the intelligence to lock your door. I mean, that's all you do with men anyway. Fuck em and leave em."

Delylah felt as if she'd been kicked in the ribs. Her chest physically ached, but she would allow tears to form in her eyes; instead, she scowled in aggravation.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Op?" Delylah saw the change in Ophelia the night prior, when Opie walked on Victor and her. "You're all over the fucking place."

"Aren't you all over the place, Lala?" Opie flung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Her skintight camisole and tiny gym shorts left little to the imagination her endless ivory legs strode towards the windows. Her long, unruly red curls fell messily down her back as she stared out at nothing in particular; she was just searching for something to distract her from the anxiety and worry that filled her chest.

"Why would I be?" Delylah countered. She didn't move from her seat.

"Because we're not who we were raised as. We're not Morgans, we're _Tellers."_ The last word was covered in disdain. "Mama and Daddy lied to us our entire lives. I'm named after a criminal, and you're named after his wives, for God's sake. They lived a whole other life—one with murder and mayhem and—"

"We aren't who we were raised as," Delylah softly admitted. "But to me, it makes sense. Daddy never asked to be born in SAMCRO, but he accepted it, and Mama just—she loved him. She fucking loved him enough to stay, and he loved her enough to run. It's actually quite beautiful, if you think about it."

"Beautiful?" Opie barked. She turned and faced Delylah. "What is beautiful about the lies? Every single day of our lives we were told to be good and humble people. We were taught the importance of your word—it's our bond, right?" Delylah opened her mouth to answer, but Opie began speaking again. "Daddy taught us about honor, but he never followed it. This whole time, he was hiding this horrible secret."

"Is the secret all that horrible, Opie?" Delylah questioned. "Because that, to me, was the only lie. Everything Mama and Daddy taught us was true: they taught us about hardwork and honor. They tucked us into bed each and every night. They were there when we started driving, when we graduated—and they'll be there when our babies come too. The only lie, Ophelia, is the package those truths were delivered in, and to me, that's nothing. That lie kept us alive."

"For how long?" Opie retaliated. "How long, now that they've found us? What if there's this huge score to settle, and we're the pawns they'll use to win?"

"Are you saying it would have been better to be raised in SAMCRO than it would have been to be raised like we were?" Delylah was incredulous.

"At least we'd know our enemy, Lala," Opie said, crisscrossing her arms over her chest. "The devil you know is better than the devil you don't."

"But we're going to be okay," Delylah calmly stated. "Victor is going to stay with us as long as he can. You have Lucius. From what Daddy said this morning, Althea Jarry is calling in reinforcements for us too. Mama and Daddy are in more danger than we are, for sure."

"When did you become the optimistic one?" Opie fired back. "Just a couple of weeks ago, you were partying yourself into oblivion, fucking everything in sight. I couldn't tell you anything—you knew it all—and you didn't care about anything. How did we switch places so fast, Lala? How did I just stop caring?"

"I don't know," Delylah responded. It was the truth. Things just felt different now. As Laura Morgan, nothing made sense. The wildness in her soul couldn't be explained. She felt like an outsider in her perfect, suburban family. Knowing pieces of her history, hearing stories of Jax and Tara, of Opie and Chibs and Tig and Gemma—it made everything make sense. As she stared at Opie, Delylah felt guilty for the peace her parents' revelation brought; it was obviously ripping Opie apart. She stood and walked towards Opie. Carefully, she took her twin in her embrace. Delylah wasn't the least bit surprised when Opie's hot tears soaked through the thin blouse she wore.

"Whoa, I'm sorry—" Lucius voice registered surprise as he stepped out of the bathroom. Delylah's eyes fell on her sister's boyfriend. Lucius appeared tall and lean in clothes, but as he crossed into the room, Delylah was surprised by how muscular he truly was.

"Don't be sorry," Delylah said as Opie broke free from her embrace. "I just came up to let y'all know Mama and Daddy are leaving in about an hour. You may want to say goodbye, Op." Wiping her eyes, Opie nodded.

"I'll clean myself up and come down," she said. Delylah nodded, somewhat relieved. She took comfort in the fact that, no matter how angry Opie was at Tara and Jax, she still loved them enough to put it aside and see them off.

"I'll see you downstairs," Delylah said quietly as she showed herself out. The door clicked shut behind her.

"What was that all about?" Lucius asked. A towel was swathed across his hips, and as he stared at her, his fingers struggled to keep it on. _Goddamn, Op, you're beautiful._ He loved this girl. Memories from the courtyard infiltrated his mind. _I can't find forever in anyone's eyes. I want to find myself first._

That was before they found Chibs in the courtyard. In the almost forty-eight hours that had transpired since, Opie seemed to have done a complete one-eighty. She clung to him at night now, and she'd begged him numerous times to stay with her, no matter what. _It's nice to be needed,_ he thought.

"I don't know," Opie said. "Lala just came in to talk, and I just went off on her." Regret shadowed her eyes as she sank into the bed. Her face was a mask of heartbreak as she met his eyes. "There's been so much goddamned change, and I'm not doing well with it, Lucius. I'm just not." Her face crumpled as Lucius sat beside her.

"Baby, I'm here," he whispered as he kissed her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. We're going to get through this together. I promise."

"I'm lucky," Opie said low. "I'm lucky you want me at all."

Lucius stared at Opie, mouth agape. "Why do you say that?"

"You fell in love with Cait Morgan, not Ophelia Teller," she responded.

"Baby, you're more than a name," Lucius countered. "I fell in love with you—your beautiful ginger hair, your sweet smile, your kind soul, and your courageous heart. A few typed letters on a birth certificate can never, ever change that."

Opie wanted to believe that, but her mind raced with a million different thoughts. She stood once more and walked towards the door. Turning the massive lock, she thought of Delylah. When she turned to face Lucius, all she wanted was for the ghosts that resided within her to stop their madness. Rushing back to her lover's side, she kissed him deeply.

"Show me you love me, Lucius," she mumbled against his mouth as the fell backwards into the mattress. "Show me."


	17. Chapter 17

Tig Trager was a badass old man. Still standing at a long and lean six feet tall, his dark hair had long turned silver, but it did nothing to dim his stunning blue eyes. His skin was bronzed from his time on the road, and it stood in vivid contrast to his all black garb. He looked strange as he stood in the middle of San Francisco International Airport. His black leather kutte made him an outsider, but it never mattered; Tig could make himself at home anywhere.

"I can't believe she did this alone," a sweet, dulcet voice crept in his ears, and he automatically turned in its direction. _Venus._ Twenty years hadn't dimmed Tig's love for the woman beside him. Like her counterpart, the woman once known as Venus van Dam aged amazingly well. Now Mrs. Venus Trager, she'd lightened her chestnut locks to a warm, dark honey shade. The waves barely skimmed the base of her throat. She garnered many stares as she walked with her handsome, burly biker. Clad in matching black, her curve skimming dress made her a polar opposite to her love, but they'd learned long ago that the stares of others meant nothing.

"I can," Tig countered. "I can completely believe she did this alone. She didn't want us interfering. I mean, she didn't even tell us where he went."

 _North Carolina._ It was a strange place to be. To Venus, it made no sense. _Why did Althea lie and say he was in Nevada?_ She gritted her teeth as she remembered last night's phone call. It came late at night, and when Tig answered, Venus knew that whatever news came from the other end wasn't good. Tig's tear-filled eyes and broken voice told her the basics. _Chibs is dead._ Althea got the call the day before. In that time, she'd fled to North Carolina, identified the body, and was now on her way back to California. The logistics threw enough confusion in the mix to make Tig forget all about Althea's initial Nevada lie. But Venus was sharp and never forgot. _I can't wait to know the truth, Althea._

"He probably told her not to. Chibs would do that sometimes. He'd get the urge to ride away—especially after—" Tig swallowed his words. Venus knew her man was referring to Jax and Tara. He could never get their names out without choking up. "He needed to alone sometimes."

"But why North Carolina?" Venus questioned. "He'd never mentioned it before. Never had a big urge to be there—"

"I don't know, babe," Tig said, exasperated. Tears filled his eyes, and Venus stopped talking. "He changed after they-" He paused once more. "He didn't want a big display—and even though it pissed me off at first, I know that, deep down, and I don't want to ask questions now. He wouldn't want our tears. He wouldn't want our sadness or our anger."

"I can see it now," Venus whispered, deftly navigating the conversation out of painful memories as they breathlessly as they walked towards the gate. "Chibs is in Heaven, worrying about poor Bobby's heart and about your diabetes. He's worried about Quinn's kids and Rat's kids and Happy—well, _we_ worry about Happy on a daily basis anyway." Venus' musical laughter sang in Tig's ears. He glanced at her for a moment and remembered that's what he first fell in love with. _That laugh. That smile._ Twenty years hadn't diminished the rush in his lungs when he inhaled her rose-tinged perfume. It hadn't diminished that laugh or that smile. _I love you,_ his heart yelled.

"Althea never gave him a reason to worry," Tig returned. "She has her shit together. Always has. I can't believe how well they fit together—once they got over the bullshit." The bullshit Tig referred to was their equally fiery tempers. After Jax and Tara ran off and joined Witness Protection, SAMCRO was a shell of its former self. The remaining club members, falsely convinced Tig, Bobby, and the rest of the club of Jax and Tara's "death", rallied around Chibs as President. Chibs, in agony from his best friend's departure, lashed out on everyone he possibly could—and Althea was target number one.

"Do you think she'll be okay with us just showing up here unannounced?" Venus asked. "She was pretty adamant about us _not_ coming."

"If she didn't want us here, baby, she shouldn't have told us she was coming home today," Tig reasoned. Venus wasn't so sure Tig's logic was on point with this one, but time would tell. It was only about half an hour before Althea and John landed.

Tig was the last thing on the sheriff's mind. Thirty thousand feet in the air, Althea Jarry stared out at the puffy cumulus clouds. John, exhausted from the stress and the travelling, rested his head on her shoulder. Althea rested against the headrest. Her body ached. She was exhausted, but she couldn't close her eyes, not for one second. If she did, she'd see Chibs' face. She'd hear his Scottish brogue and feel his lips on her cheek. It was unbearable. All she wanted was to have him by her side. She placed her hand over John's and inaudibly sighed. Her mind was full of the man she'd loved with her whole, entire heart.

"I love ye," Althea thought she heard him whisper. As tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't help but snap them shut. It was a reflex. Immediately, her lover came into view. Still dressed in his kutte, he rushed towards her. His arms and hands found her and pulled her close. She inhaled deeply, and the sharp smell of smoke and leather overcame her. "No matter what happens, I love ye. I always did, even when ye drove me ta madness."

"When _I_ drove _you_ to madness?" she laughed. "Do remember our first night together?"

"I'll neva forget it, lass," he stated. His scars broadened his smile. "It was a month after Jax and Tara left. Ye had come ta Teller Morrow for business—"

"And you told me to fuck off," Althea interrupted with a giggle.

"And ye slapped ma fool mouth," Chibs said.

"You deserved it," she returned.

"Aye, I did," Chibs honestly replied. "But I was too stupid fer ye and angry at ye to see what I wanted. That slap showed me yer fire, and I realized how hot it was."

"Then you kissed me," Althea murmured. "I've never been kissed like that before." Her fingers clutched the lapels of Chibs' kutte. He touched his forehead to hers, and their noses grazed one another.

"I'd nae kissed anyone like that before," Chibs jaggedly whispered.

"Why did you go?" Althea cried. "Why couldn't you just stay with me?" She heard Chibs' sharp intake of breath. Althea hadn't wanted Chibs to leave California. She didn't want him to protect Jax and Tara. In her mind, law enforcement should have handled it. Chibs wouldn't have it. In the end, Althea knew it was a lost battle, but she also had a deep gut feeling that she'd never see him alive again.

"Take care of Johnny," Chibs stated, ignoring her question. "I'll be back. I promise ye."

"Althea." Tara's voice startled the sheriff awake. She jumped, causing John's eyes to snap open.

"Are we—" Althea began.

"Yeah," Tara said nervously. "We're landing." Tara's heart began an impatient hammering against her chest. She was seated in the aisle, and Jax was on the other side. Thankfully, the seat next to him was vacant. They'd gotten lucky on the trip. Now, as they approached San Francisco, Tara was that much closer to Charming. The thought both excited and terrified her. Her eyes stared at the sapphire sky. Jax, like Althea before him, slept. Tara had tried to nudge him awake before, to no avail. She hadn't seen him sleep like that since before Abel's wedding. She hated to pull him from such peaceful dreams, but she had no choice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking," the pilot's smooth radio-worthy voice echoed throughout the small cabin. "We are beginning our decent to San Francisco International Airport. As we make our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full and upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened—"

Tara blocked out the rest of the message. She'd been on enough planes throughout the years to know the drill. She gently nudged Jax back to consciousness. This time, it worked, and his blue eyes flew open. He looked almost startled as he gazed around the cabin and tried to get his bearings.

"We're here already?" Jax looked at his watch. Tara chuckled.

"Time flies when you sleep for the whole damned flight," Tara teased with a smile. Jax grinned back and nuzzled her cheek.

"I can't believe we're here," Jax whispered. Truth be told, Tara couldn't believe it either. She never thought she'd see California again, much less step foot in Charming. Her heart smacked against her chest.

"I can hear that," Jax said quietly. Tara kissed his forehead in response. Her eyes looked over at John and Althea again. She was awake. Though fully awake, John had shut his eyes again. As the sheriff's eyes met Tara's, Tara saw the tears glistening in their corners. Guilt flooded her as she blushed and looked away. Althea's pain was compartmentalized and regimented, but when she actually let her feelings show, the hollow ache within her soul was palpable. It was too much for Tara to bear.

"Are you going to call the kids when we land?" Jax asked. "I'm sure they're worried."

Tara sighed, welcoming the distraction. "I told Abel and Hannah I'd call them, and they could disperse the news, since they're staying at the house." That decision was made in the wee hours of the morning as Tara and Jax readied themselves for bed. Tara felt bad Hannah and Abel postponed their honeymoon, and Jax worried about them barricading themselves within their apartment. He and Tara decided that Abel and Hannah had to house-sit while they were gone. It just made sense. They could help Opie and Lala too. It was a win / win.

Jax nodded. "Makes sense. If we called everybody, we'd be on the phone all night. Do you know if Thomas and Will made it back to South Carolina?" _Damn,_ Jax thought, _it feels weird to say Thomas. I never thought he'd know his true name._

"He said he'd text Abel when he got home," Tara returned with another smile. "I guess everyone has to report to mini-Jax."

Jax laughed, but it was true. _He is my mini-me._ He was proud of Abel's grace throughout the process. Just before everyone parted ways, they'd gathered in the giant kitchen. As they were seated around the massive kitchen table, nostalgia pulled at Jax's heart. He couldn't help but remember a time where SAMCRO was okay. If he closed his eyes, he could see them all: a happily married Gemma and Clay, Juice before his paranoia and self-doubt took over, Piney and Opie candidly talking while Donna held her husband's hand. The feelings Jax experienced as he looked at the family he created was no different than the feelings he had towards the family that created him.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Thomas had asked. Will was at his side. Jax was warming up to his son's partner, and that was surprising, especially to Jax. The love was strong between Thomas and Will; anyone could see that. _One day,_ Jax thought, _Will won't be just a man in my son's life. He'll be my son-in-law._ What surprised Jax more than anything was that he welcomed the thought. The support Will had given Thomas during the craziness was much appreciated and had earned Will plenty of brownie points.

"I don't know, son," Jax replied. "It depends on what we encounter there. Your mother and I intend on getting Chibs back to Charming, attend the funeral, and try to come home."

"In theory, we shouldn't be gone more than a week or two, tops," Tara interrupted. "In the meantime, Abel is going to stay with the twins, Lucius, and Victor to make sure everything stays calm."

"Abel and Hannah don't have to stay with us, Mama," Opie said. "We're old enough to care for ourselves, and we'll have Lucius and Vict—"

"We've had this discussion," Tara began. "And at the risk of sounding crude, I know damned well that Lucius will be doing more than just protecting you." Her daughter flushed crimson with embarrassment.  
"Besides, there's safety in numbers. With only Thomas and Will away, I feel much better having you all together."

Opie was annoyed. She hated when Tara was right, but she also knew there was no swaying her mother once she'd set her mind to something. Apparently, tenacity was a family trait.

"Be glad we're allowing Lucius and Victor there at all," Jax interjected, and Opie was silenced. Tara smiled at the memory as the pilot's voice poured into the cabin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at San Francisco International Airport. Please make sure your seat belt is securely fastened. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any cups and glasses. Thank you."

Tara inhaled deeply. _This is really happening. I'll be in Charming in a couple hours._ Chills raced up her spine. _Then what?_

"Flight attendants, prepare for landing."

Panic settled in Tara's chest as she clutched Jax's hand. Her eyes locked with his, and he smiled. It wasn't a smile of joy or excitement—it was fearful and brave. _He's just as frightened as I am._

"Cabin crew, please take your seats for landing."

The attendants and crew took their seats, and within seconds, they were making their decent. Tara wanted to scream, _No, wait! I'm not ready!_ Pictures of her Charming life—her childhood home, the high school, Opie and Donna's house, Gemma's house, the Clubhouse, St. Thomas—they all flooded her mind and confused her. Anxiety filled her chest and her throat. _I can't do this. I can't fucking do this. Why did I come? Why?_

Jax grasped her hand and leaned towards her.

"Breath, baby," Jax whispered in her ear. She opened her mouth and inhaled. She'd forgotten to breathe. As oxygen filled her lungs, the edge eased, and even though complete and utter terror filled her, she knew she'd be alright.

"They're here," Venus said. She'd been nervously watching the gates change on the monitor. As Flight 318 changed from _Landed_ to _At Gate,_ a strange sensation sank into Venus. Goosebumps raced up and down her arms, and she shivered.

"You cold, baby?" Tig asked. He draped a casual arm over his beloved, but sensing her tension, he pulled her close. "You're shaking."

"Yeah," she exhaled. "I just felt like—like—" _Like a ghost just went through me._ She didn't dare say it out loud, but that's exactly what she felt. A strange, alien notion drifted through her, and she was scared. Fear wasn't something to which Venus was accustomed. With Tig, she was fearless. She could distinctly remember the last time she shook like that. She'd never forgotten it. It was a vendetta gone horribly awry.

 _First I'm going to fuck you. Then I'm gonna grab your boys and do the same to them. Then I'll be merciful and kill them in front of you. Then I'll fuck you again and kill you._

 _Izzy._ The night had brought Tara home from the hospital. She'd endured seven long months on hospital bedrest due to blood clots in her lungs. The night they arrived at Gemma's had been shattered by a murder at Teller-Morrow, and while Jax and SAMCRO went to investigate, Jax's old enemy Izzy came back to destroy Tara and the boys. She was still pregnant with the twins. Venus remembered it well. It sometimes plagued her dreams. _The bastard is going to kill them. I have to stop it._ Venus swallowed hard. She shook harder as her eyes snapped shut. She heard the bastard's voice as he spoke to a very pregnant Tara.

 _What did we do to deserve that?_ Tara's beautiful voice played in her ears. Venus was back in Gemma's house. The welcome home party. Nero's dying breaths were the only sound she heard as she crept form the shadows, gun in hand.

 _You didn't think you were alone, did ya? Shows how ridiculously dumb you are. Drop the gun, you sonofabitch._ Venus heard the sound of metal hitting tile. _Don't fucking move, you bastard._

 _Look, I—_ It suddenly occurred to Izzy to plead for his life.

 _I don't give a fuck._ Venus was taken aback by her own words as memories overcame all her senses. She was there, in Gemma's living room, reliving the night Delylah and Ophelia were born. _I heard everything you said to this beautiful woman. You said—_

"What the fuck?" Tig's voice interrupted Venus' thoughts. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned towards Tig. His eyes were saucers, big, beautiful, blue saucers.

"I told you not to come, Tig." _Althea._ Still half-dazed, Venus barely heard her, but the anger was clear. Unsure of where to look, she turned in the direction of her husband's gaze. She didn't even hear her own gasp as her vision cleared.

 _Ghosts._ Althea Jarry, clad in all black, stood next to her son, but that was far from shocking. It was what was behind them that caused Venus to cry out.

"Jax?" Tig's eyes overflowed. Shock and dismay covered his finely chiseled features. His eyes roamed Jax's face for a moment before they lit upon Tara. Haunted souls seemed to hover freely about them as Tig felt Venus shake harder by his side. He looked at Althea, truly convinced he was seeing things. A tight nod from the diminutive sheriff confirmed that neither Tig nor Venus were crazy. "Tara?"

"I told you I'd see you at the clubhouse," Althea admonished. "I was going to do this slowly. This is too much now, especially with Filip-"

Tig wasn't listening. He was feeling. Every guilt tinged moment that had passed through his body, every fucked up dream, and every agonizing thought of the past bubbled within his gut and traveled to his heart. With Venus' hand firmly closed within his, they walked towards them—towards Althea and John, towards Jax and Tara.

The look on Tig's face was something Tara expected. It was exactly what she thought it'd be: a mask of horror, of joy, of anger, of elation. It was the strangest and most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Venus was openly crying, and as Tara held her arms out, she realized she was sobbing herself. It was bound to happen. Their departure eighteen years prior was too short—she and Jax and the kids said their goodbyes, knowing their fake deaths would be the next news they'd hear. At least Jax and Tara knew it'd be a final goodbye. Tig and Venus didn't have that luxury. _Only Chibs knew the truth,_ Tara thought sadly. _And now he's gone._

No words were exchanged as Tig and Jax stood face-to-face. Eighteen years apart had aged both men, but that didn't matter. The history they shared spoke volumes as they just stared. Althea and John moved to the side, close to Venus and Tara. The women embraced quickly, forgetting the pain of their absence from one another's lives, but when they parted, they were both astounded to see the bikers still staring at one another.

"You're alive," Tig croaked. He wasn't thinking as his hand reached up and lightly clutched Jax's face. "I have to make sure." Tig's voice was tinged with the explanation.

"It's true," Jax said simply. "I'm alive. I always have been."

Tig reached out and pulled Jax in close. Rivers of tears fell from both Jax and Tig's eyes as they clutched one another. Eighteen years of pain melted away, and it was as if they were back at Teller-Morrow, saying goodbye. They sobbed as they remembered that moment—they sobbed as they both completely understood why Jax was home. He'd returned to bury a man they both loved. _A brother._ The explanation of almost two decades away in Witness Protection—the kids—the wedding—the IRA—none of that mattered now.

The only thing that mattered in the midst of the mad reunion was Chibs. As Jax and Tig broke apart, the absence of the Scot was huge. Both men knew, no matter what happened before, during, or after those lost years, it didn't matter. Chibs wasn't locked away in prison or Witness Protection. There would never be a reunion like this one, no matter how much they prayed for it. After almost two decades of lies, the truth between them all was heartbreaking and simple: Filip Telford was gone, and he was never coming back.


	18. Chapter 18

There was something comforting about the sound of Victor's breathing. It drove away the demons the dwelled within Delylah's heart. It silenced her worries about Jax and Tara, and more importantly, it felt like home. They lay together in Delylah's room. It felt so strange having him sleep in her queen size bed, the bed that saw her grow into adulthood, but it also felt wonderful to be with him.

Bare chested and deeply sleeping, Victor made a stunning picture as his belly rose and fell with his breath. It was this moment that Delylah allowed herself the luxuries of curiosity and vulnerability. She had a desperate need to reach out and let her fingertips graze his skin, but she feared waking him. She also feared rejection.

She stood and put distance between them. As she walked over to her windows, questions slammed into her mind. _Why don't you want me?_ It'd been almost a week since he'd come to the house, almost a week since her parents went to California, and Victor hadn't tried anything more than an embrace or a chaste kiss. The kisses were nothing compared to those first ones. _Those kisses told me you wanted me. What changed?_ Her fingertips found her mouth. As they traced the fragile skin of her lips, memories of the vineyard floored her, leaving her breathless. _Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough?_

Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, her eyes focused on the darkness outside. She knew it was hot; she could tell in the way the thin film of dew that formed on the glass. July nights in North Carolina could be as brutal as the daytime. Where the sun was absent, the humidity thrived and threatened to choke the life out of anything that dared to survive. The trees were still, so Delylah knew there wasn't even a breeze to relieve the heat. Grateful for central air, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the starless sky.

"What are doing up?" Victor's sleep stained voice broke the silence.

"I just couldn't sleep," Delylah lied smoothly as she looked ahead. _I can't get you out of my mind,_ she thought. _I wonder what I've done to turn you off._

"Liar," Victor mumbled as he stood. Delylah heard his feet pad across the hardwood floors. Soon, he was behind her. She could feel the electricity jump from his body to hers, and her heart began to race. _How do you do this to me? You don't even have to touch me, and I'm already wanting you—again._ She sighed audibly. _How long are you going to torture me, Victor?_

"What are you doing up?" he repeated. She shrugged. It was his turn to sigh as he gently gripped her shoulder. She now faced him, and the dim glow of the streetlight illuminated her features. He saw her full lips set in a firm, hard line. He saw her blue eyes flash in anger. She didn't speak, nor did she allow his good looks to melt her heart. She was upset, confused.

Madness reigned supreme around her. In the time since Jax and Tara's departure, the Teller kids had meandered their way through a daily routine, still lost in the murky waters of the truth. Abel, still known as Adam to the citizens of Silver Spring, ran the body shop, stating that their father had surprised their mother with an impromptu surprise vacation. Abel and Hannah carefully crafted the lie: Jax and Tara were out in California, soaking up the west coast sun, while Abel juggled the shop and his job as a technical writer. It made perfect sense, since Abel worked from home anyway.

Abel and Hannah insisted they knew the plan all along and postponed their own honeymoon until Jax and Tara's return. No one in the sleepy little town knew the truth. Delylah, Ophelia, and Lucius backed up the lies, and Victor's arrival was cleverly disguised as a visit to his newlywed sister and brother-in-law. It was strange to live the lie, but as long as people bought it, that's all that mattered.

"I'm fine," Delylah tried to deceive him, to evade the truth. Jax and Tara worried her, but they were more than capable of taking care of themselves What hurt more than anything was that her heart was tearing at the seams from his lack of interest. She tried to push past him, but he stood firm. She looked down, but he carefully tucked his index finger beneath her chin. Lifting her face to where her beautiful eyes met his, it was all Delylah could do to _not_ kiss him.

"You're not fine," Victor whispered. "You're far from fine. I can feel you shaking, even now. What's wrong? Is it your parents?"

"If I tell you _yes_ , will you let me go back to bed?" Delylah fired with more annoyance than she intended. She watched as Victor's eyes widened, then narrowed. She saw his jaw clench with exasperation, but he held his temper.

"If it wasn't a lie, I might," he returned. "But I know you well enough now to know when you're trying to hide something."

"You think you know me?" Delylah felt her frustration build.

"You're not that hard to read," Victor said. "Most girls your age are fairly easy to understand."

Delylah pushed him away and stalked towards the bed. "You don't know a damned thing."

"I know more than you think I do," Victor replied with infuriating calm. He didn't follow her. Delylah abruptly stopped and spun around. He was a breathtaking sight: his smooth tan skin was illuminated in the pale greenish-white light. His pajama pants hung loosely on his narrow hips. His arms were crossed across his chest, and his stare was almost mocking as he looked at her.

"Please enlighten me," Delylah challenged. "Please tell me what you _think_ you know."

"I think you're scared," he responded without missing a beat. "I think you're scared of losing your parents. I think you're scared of losing the security and comfort you've grown up in. I think you have no idea how to feel or what to think or how to react to anything. I think your world has been ripped out from underneath you, and you don't know what the fuck to do."

Delylah laughed. It was a harsh, cold sound.

"You don't know me at all," Delylah stated. "I am worried about my parents, but I worry more about Op than I do them. _She's falling apart, not me._ " It was true. Without the comfort of the life she once knew, Ophelia was a hot fucking mess of a girl. Gone was the straight A, go-getter student. All confidence had disappeared, and in her place was a fearful, worried, questioning girl. Opie relied on Lucius more than ever, and while it worried Delylah, she was also grateful for her sister's boyfriend. He was the only thing keeping her twin sane.

"You're not fine," Victor bit back. "You can't sleep. You barely eat. You spend your days taking care of Ophelia or Hannah or Abel or—"

"Or you?" Delylah pointedly asked. "You haven't been in the best shape either since you saw your mama."

It happened the day after they'd arrived in Silver Spring. They'd gone along with Hannah and Abel to the local grocery to buy food for the house. They didn't expect Sarah Sinclair to be there, in all her doctor's wife glory. Dressed in a simple white sundress and big sunglasses, Hannah saw Sarah long before Sarah saw her.

"Hannah, no," Victor said low, but it was too late. His little sister, who wasn't nearly as well versed in their parents' hateful spirits, walked over to her mother. Victor watched as the agony unfolded. Sarah stood in the midst of the produce section, surrounded by oranges and bananas and pears, stared at Hannah as if she were a stranger. Sarah's eyes, covered by her large, dark sunglasses, seemed to look past her daughter. It was as if Hannah didn't even exist. There wasn't the slightest bit of recognition in the elder Sinclair's eyes as she strode past.

"That was Hannah, not me," Victor's aggravation echoed Delylah's. "It broke my heart to see Sarah treat her that way. I'm used to that shit; she's not." In fact, the younger Sinclair was _still_ brokenhearted from her mother's icy reception. She'd cried on and off for the last few days, and no matter what any of them did to try and help, Hannah was still shattered.

"It doesn't hurt you that she disowns you and your sister?" Delylah questioned. "It would bother the fuck outta me if my mama didn't even acknowledge my presence. Like you said, you're used to it, but I don't buy that. Not for one goddamned minute."

Victor whistled low. "Damn, Delylah, that was harsh. Even for you." He walked towards her, but he skimmed past. He went to the bed and tore at the blankets.

"What are you doing?" Delylah asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Sleeping downstairs," he replied casually. "I'd rather be ignored than lied to."

"Lied to?" Delylah's voice rose. She gritted her teeth. _Don't wake the house,_ her brain warned. _Fuck the house,_ her heart argued back.

"Yeah, lied to," Victor spit. "Whatever is eating at you is making you lash out. I just asked for the truth, and you turn it around on me."

"That's because it's your fault," Delylah explained. "This whole thing is your fucking fault."

Victor stopped moving. Delylah smiled. _Ah, now I have his attention,_ she thought.

"How in the hell is this my fault?" Victor growled. He turned to face Delylah once more. Fire lit his eyes as he stared at her. Delylah licked her lips. Part of her feared his anger, and the sicker, crazier part of her enjoyed it. She stalked towards him. Her eyes locked with his, and there were mere centimeters separating her from him. Delylah's heart hammered against her sternum and a hot blush stained her cheeks. Anger poured over as she glared at him.

"You haven't touched me. Not once since we left the vineyard," she stated. "You've given me a peck here and there, hugged me like I'm goddamned Hannah."

Victor crossed his arms across his broad chest. He said nothing. Delylah continued.

"You sleep next to me every night. You've held me, but not like that first night. What do you want from me?" She stepped back, and without waiting for his answer, she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor. Now clad in a black sports bra and loose black sweatpants, she ran a hand across her flat abdomen before reaching up and undoing her long dark hair. It fell in waves over her shoulders. Her eyes were furious and seductive—all at the same time. Victor wanted nothing more than to grab her and fully possess her.

"You want me," Delylah whispered. Her head cocked to the side as she gazed at him. "Don't you?"

The last two words were sad and vulnerable. Victor's anger was hot in his belly, but as she saw the fear in her eyes, he knew that, beneath the bravado and the fury, was a fragile, scared girl that just wanted approval.

"How could a man _not_ want you?" Victor countered as he stepped closer to her. His chest grazed hers. "You are fucking beautiful. You don't need me to tell you that. You know it's true." She looked down.  
"No, baby, don't look down. Look at me. Please."

Her blue eyes were teary as she looked up at him. "If you want me, then why don't you-"

Before Delylah could finish, Victor's lips crushed hers. Her hands flew to his face as her tongue darted into his mouth. Their mouths were still passionately locked as he pulled her closer. His calloused hands roamed her curves as hers gripped the back of his head. When he tore away from her, breathless, his eyes seemed to drink in her soul.

"Is that what you want, Delylah?" he questioned. "You want me to just fuck you?"

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't," Delylah answered. "I've been waiting for you to fuck me."

"What made you think that I'd fuck you?" Victor asked.

"Because I—I mean—You and I -At the vineyard-" she stammered. _What the hell kind of question is that?_ "Are you telling me that you don't want me?"

"I didn't say that," Victor murmured. "I _do_ want you. I want you like I've never wanted any other woman in my life."

"Then what the hell—You're confusing me to no end, Victor." Tears edged her voice as she stared at the man before her. No one had ever kissed her like that. The boys she'd indulged in over the years were simple: they wanted her, she wanted them. They fucked. Sometimes they stayed. Sometimes they didn't, and sometimes she made them go. But never once did they make her body shake like Victor did. Never once did her heart feel like it would explode within her chest. "Tell me what you want, Victor."

"Just listen to me, Delylah" Victor requested. "I _want_ you. I wanted you the minute I saw you at Hannah and Abel's wedding. I wanted you when I found you in the hallway—when I laid next to you—God, I wanted nothing more than to make love to you then and there."

"Then why didn't you?" Delylah asked, heartbroken. "Why didn't you just—fuck me? I was willing. Completely willing."

"You're not hearing what I said to you," Victor answered. "The way I feel about you—it's new to me. In the years I've been away—I've seen things and done things that will haunt me forever. I never open myself to anyone—because, like you said, my own mother doesn't even want to know me—"

"Victor, I'm sorry, I just said that because-

"You were hurting," Victor finished. "You think I'm rejecting you. You think that, just because I don't press you against the wall and just fucking take you that I don't _want_ you. It couldn't be further from the truth." He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Taken aback, she didn't move. Her lips responded to his kisses, but the rest of her didn't want to touch him. She was spellbound.

Wordlessly, he broke from her, and without warning, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms, just he had on the first night. He walked over to the bed and carefully laid her down. He crawled into bed beside her. She rolled to face him, and his hand reached up and gently grazed her cheek. The tenderness of the move startled her, but she welcomed the shivers racing down her spine.

"I want you," Victor said. "But I don't want to fuck you. I want to be more than just another notch in your bedpost. Your body is beautiful. _You_ are beautiful. But you are more than a bangin' body and a pretty face." He kissed her lips carefully, then his lips moved down her throat, and as they moved downward, he spoke. "You're funny. You're fiery and brilliant and brave. And I love everything about you."

Delylah was lost in the words, in the kisses, in the sensations she'd waited for. Her back arched as his mouth moved to her belly. His body covered hers as he rained kisses on her face.

"I don't want to fuck you, Delylah," Victor whispered. "I love you too much to treat you like some whore." Delylah placed her hands on his face, stopping his sweet assault.

"What?" Shock diffused through Delylah's body as she looked into his eyes.

"That's why I haven't touched you. This is why I haven't tried to bang you every single night, no matter how much I wanted to. At first, I thought it was your age that threw me off. Then, I thought it was pure lust. But when I held you that first night—I fucking knew I was lost to you. The age difference doesn't matter—I fell hard. I love you, and even though you may not love me yet, I hope you will one day."

Delylah sat up on her elbows, and her lips grazed his.

"You know that's why I was so mad at you," she quietly explained. "I thought you didn't want me—that I was more like a friend or little sister than someone you-you-loved. It took me until now to realize why it hurt me so much—I wanted you to love me. I've just been so confused between love and desire that I didn't even realize what I wanted."

Victor lowered himself to where part of his weight was on her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him and was amazed at how well their bodies melded together.

"What exactly _do_ you want, Delylah Teller?" Victor's dark eyes were brilliant as he stared into hers. Delylah chewed on her bottom lip as she returned his gaze.

"I want you, Victor," she replied. "I want you to love me."

"It's too late for that, little girl," Victor murmured. "I loved you the minute I saw you again." Delylah smiled and laid back on her pillows.

"I guess that makes two of us then," Delylah said. "Because I loved you the minute you held me as I slept."

A disarming smile played on Victor's lips as he lowered himself onto her. As he sank into her lips, all feelings of tension melted away, and their small fight was forgotten. The world could have collapsed around them, and they wouldn't care.

 _God, that was close._ The thought plagued the man's mind as he moved from his hiding place behind the trees. _The girl almost saw me._ Everything he'd been working towards could have very easily been destroyed had it not been for the massive man that all back dragged her away from his sightline. _If I can't see them, they can't see me,_ he reasoned as moved from the shadows. Slowly, he walked away from the house and carefully navigated the path towards the main road. His car was parked there, so there would be no alert or speculation.

As he walked, his hand dug in his pocket. He grabbed his phone and dialed a familiar number. It barely had a chance to ring before someone picked it up.

"Speak," the voice on the other crackled.

"It's me," the mysterious man grumbled into the phone. "I thought you'd be glad to know that I found the Teller house. Everything we discussed should easily fall into place within the next twenty-four hours."

A satisfied hum flowed through the phone.

"Good," the other voice practically purred on the other end. "That's good news."

"Yeah," was the response. "By this time tomorrow, Jax and Tara will finally get what's coming to them." As the phone clicked off, a satisfied grin crossed the man's face as he walked to his faraway car. _You have no idea what's coming to you, but you will._ _I can promise you that._ Delylah and Victor were far too involved in their lover's dance to notice anything out of the ordinary. Locked in an impassioned embrace, they hurtled towards blissful oblivion. They cared about nothing else, even though danger which they'd never experienced awaited just outside their front door.


	19. Chapter 19

The last few days were a haze. Tara Teller couldn't remember when she had a good night's sleep. _It must've been before Abel and Hannah's wedding_ , she thought as she stared out at the hazy California sun. It was just rising. Somewhere out East, in the sleepy town of Silver Spring, Tara knew her children were awake and had already headed out to their days. If she closed her eyes, she could see Abel, tired and haggard from writing all night, driving towards the body shop. He probably wouldn't stay all day, but Tara knew he'd make sure the guys towed the line.

Tara knew Hannah was sleeping the morning away. From the conversations she'd had with her new daughter-in-law, there wouldn't be much time before the inevitable baby announcement. As much as she and Abel wanted to wait until her twelfth week to announce their news, Hannah's belly was already faintly rounded. Her utter exhaustion and constantly churning stomach made it almost impossible to keep it hidden. She'd done a good job at evading questions so far, blaming depression for her newly acquired hermit lifestyle. Tara wondered if Sarah and James would reconsider their complete and utter contempt for the Teller family once they knew of Hannah and Abel's baby.

Ophelia, however, didn't have to feign depression. Tara hadn't spoken to her ginger haired daughter since she'd arrived in Charming, but from all accounts, she knew that Opie was struggling. Hell, the word _struggle_ was an understatement. Content to languish in her lack of drive or desire, Ophelia Teller was spiraling downward, and the effect was horrible to behold. There was no spirit in the once high-strung spitfire. There had been more days spent in bed than out of it. In the time since she'd learned the truth, she'd pulled away from everyone—Lucius, Abel, Hannah—even Delylah.

It amazed Tara at how Delylah was truly opposite of her twin in every way possible; when Opie turned south, Lala turned north, and it fucked with Tara to no end. Abel had tried to understand his sister's turn for the better, but he was consistently confused by it. Tara, however, knew the reason for Lala's sudden joie de vivre: _Victor._ Tara wanted to laugh aloud, but she knew it'd wake Jax. _How simple men are,_ she thought as she rested her tired eyes on her disheveled, deeply sleeping husband. _Abel doesn't even realize that Lala is in love. Fuck, I wonder if Lala even realizes it yet._ Tara smiled sadly. _Of course she realizes it,_ she thought. _When it hits you, you just fucking know._

"Morning," Jax crackled. His deep warble was partially muffled by the pillow. He turned his head and opened a sleepy blue eye.

"Morning," Tara returned with a grin. Decades spent together couldn't change the beauty of her husband's face. Shirtless and covered in a sea of white hotel sheets, his silver and gold hair gleamed against the pillows. She saw him smile back at her, and unable to help herself, she lowered herself to his side and curled around him. Face-to-face, they lay in silence for a moment, drinking each other in.

"What's on your mind, babe?" Jax asked. It should have been a simple question, but with everything going on, Tara could have answered in a million different ways. Their trip to Charming had been both strange and wonderful, but there was still a huge, gaping hole of guilt and grief in Chibs' absence.

"Thinking of the kids," Tara replied. She wondered if it ever stopped. Both Thomas and Abel had been on their own for a while, and Tara still woke thinking of them and went to bed the same way. "I talked to Abel last night—then Thomas called to check in." Tara's heart swelled as she thought of her sons. _They really are good boys_. Jax laughed.

"The girls never bother calling," he said quietly. It was intended as a joke, but when he realized it was a true observation, his heart sank. Tara watched as his smile disappeared.

"They haven't been without us like the boys have." Tara's voice was full of motherly wisdom as she spoke. "You gotta remember, Abel moved out the minute he turned eighteen and graduated. Thomas graduated at seventeen and was off to college minutes after his eighteenth birthday. They've had time to miss us. Opie and Lala haven't."

"Either way, I'll be glad to get home," Jax stated as he rolled to his back. "I've been worried sick about them. I don't like being away."

"I'm surprised at how quiet it's been," Tara said, secretly wondering if she'd just jinxed herself. "Do you think that—maybe-the IRA was just after Chibs?"

Jax stared at the pristine white ceiling. His blue eyes were piercing as they probed the nothingness above. "That would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," Tara admitted. "Maybe not. What if Chibs just felt the weight of the Irish on him and made a mistake? What if he reached us before our cover was ever blown?"

"What if we blew our own cover?" Jax's voice was shards of glass as he sat up and faced the sun-filled window. "Are you saying we blew it, Tara?"

"I guess we'll never know," Tara whispered. "It's too late now. Everyone knows. I suppose it's just a matter of time—"

"Before they find us?" Jax finished. He rested his elbows on his knees and placed his chin on fingertips.

"Yeah," Tara answered. "Do you think they're coming now?"

"They may already be here," Jax honestly replied as he stood. "They may be watching us now—waiting."

"That's the chance we took to make it right." Tara's voice was solemn as she stood and walked to her husband. Standing in front of him, clad in one of his ancient gray t-shirts, her dark hair sleep worn and disheveled, her hazel eyes were full of fire. "In the time that has passed since we ran, I have learned a lot. I learned that our sacrifice was needed to give our kids a chance. But I also learned that we have no control over fate."

"What do you mean?" Jax's eyebrows raised with his question. Tara gently touched his face as she stared into his eyes.

"We pretended to die. We schlepped across the country, to a middle-of-nowhere town in the South, and SAMCRO still found us. It still came knocking on our door. It's our fate. Our destiny. We can't fight it anymore. Whatever happens—we have to face it. End it." Jax looked down, then up again. His blue eyes sent shivers through her.

"When did you get so brave, Tara Knowles?" he asked with an enchanting smile.

"When I became Tara Teller," she replied. Standing on tiptoe, she grazed his lips with hers.

"I need some of that bravery today," Jax mumbled against her mouth as their foreheads touched. Tara rested her hand on his heart. It beat steadily against his flesh, and she reveled in its rhythm. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck.

Today, in the unrelenting July heat, Jax and Tara would stand in the shadows of the Mountain View Cemetery. In a move carefully orchestrated by Althea, Tig, and Venus, they would show _after_ Chibs' service and say their own quiet, private goodbyes, away from the club. After the impromptu reunion in the airport, Tig knew the other members, especially Bobby, would be heartbroken to know the truth.

"They won't understand, Jax." Tig's words hovered in his mind. He was right. There was no thought given to the remaining club members in their impulsive decision to travel west. Chibs' death, along with John and Althea's grieving superseded all common sense. Even Althea, the most logical woman Jax knew, fell prey to her emotions. Had any of them been thinking clearly, they would have realized coming to Charming was a rash and stupid choice.

 _There is no going back now,_ Jax thought as he ran his hands through Tara's tangled hair. Images of his past life threatened to engulf him as his mind drifted to parts unknown. Neither Jax nor Tara knew the eldest standing SAMCRO member's problems like Tig, Venus, and Althea did. Haunted by demons and ghosts while battling debilitating congestive heart failure and emphysema, Bobby was a dead man walking. At seventy-nine years old, the fact that the old man was still standing was amazing.

Happy wouldn't get it, nor would Rat or Quinn. Regardless of the careful plan to leave SAMCRO unscathed by their departure, both Jax and Tara could still be seen as rats by the remaining members of the club. Other newer prospects had joined since and completed the rigorous rituals needed to be truly ensconced within the ranks of SAMCRO—surely, the old apparitions of Jax and Tara Teller wouldn't do anyone any favors. Staying separate was the best option. It was the only option.

The buzz of a cell phone vibrated within the silence. Tara walked to the nightstand and grabbed it. Clicking it on, she held the receiver to her ear.

"Thomas," Tara breathed into the phone. "How's it going?"

Jax heard his son's voice warmly greet Tara. Unsure of how long the call would take, took that opportunity to shower. Turning the water on full hot, the room quickly filled with steam as he divested himself of his sweatpants. His body was covered in goosebumps as opened the foggy glass door. He tested the water. Turning the knob to allow a slight trickle of cool water to mix in, he stepped in. The water fell in rivulets down his still firmly muscled abdomen. Placing his hands on the wall, he let the water flow over him. It was almost like a baptism.

The door opened slowly, and a whoosh of cool air flowed in. Jax smiled as it shut quickly. There was barely a sound as Tara padded across the cool tile floor. The shower door opened and closed. He tingled as he felt Tara's smooth hands travel over his scars. What Jax didn't see were the tears that flowed down his wife's cheeks as they mixed with the shower water. If Tara looked closely enough, she could make out some of the faint letter that remained still. She remembered the anguish that wrecked Jax's body and heart when WitSec forced the removal of his massive Sons of Anarchy tattoo. On cold days, the tight, silvery tissue would ache terribly. Jax never once realized his beloved could hear the muffled cries of agony while she slept, but she did.

He shivered as her lips touched his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his taut waist as she turned her cheek to rest on a piece of untouched flesh. Slowly, he turned to face her. Her hair stuck to her face, her shoulders as the water poured from above. A gentle kiss was shared between them, but it grew hungry and almost savage as she clung to him.

His mouth devoured the creamy skin of her throat as her hands tangled in his hair. His hands groped and sought the soft flesh of her breasts as he expertly fondled them. A low, husky moan drifted over the sound of the shower as Jax turned Tara to face the wall. Knowing what he sought, she braced herself against the wall. Bending her to the perfect angle, Jax slid carefully into his wife and hesitated. Tara's sharp intake of breath told him he was, as always, doing everything right. As he began slowly moving, Tara picked up his rhythm and moved against him.

"Oh, God, Tara," he whispered as his head turned towards the ceiling. "How do you do this? How?"

Tara responded with another moan as she changed speed. Before long, she felt the familiar sensation of Jax's calloused fingertips digging into her skin. With a smile of triumph, she rocked with him, knowing satisfaction was at hand. With a cry of pure pleasure, she moved smoothly against him, reveling in the chills and fireworks that erupted within.

"Fuck, Tara," Jax groaned once more, and as Tara came down from her ecstatic high, she heard her husband's voice rumble in passionate release. For a moment, Tara didn't move, which allowed Jax to get his bearings. Once he'd returned to Earth, he pulled out of her. She turned and let him pull her against him. They stood, water falling. Tara looked up at him, and he kissed her forehead. Jax didn't speak as he pulled a small bottle of shampoo from the shelf. Pouring some of the contents in his wide palm, he gently washed his wife's hair. Carefully, she soaped his body, surprised at another wave desire that stabbed her. She held it at bay as he continued his attentions.

They didn't really talk as they finished their shower or as they stumbled from it. They dried off in silence. Tara pulled a filmy black chiffon dress from the closet, and after throwing on a black bra and matching panties, she slid the dress over her head. She pulled her damp hair to the side and allowed Jax to clasp the back closed for her. She then retreated to the bathroom to finish her hair and makeup.

In the time it took her to get ready, Jax had managed to pull on a black button down, which he left open at the collar, well-fitted black slacks, and shiny ebony loafers. His hair was a perfect mess. _You get better with age, love,_ Tara thought.

"You look beautiful," Jax shakily whispered as Tara slipped on sensible, peep-toe heels. With a smile of appreciation, Tara grabbed her purse and stepped towards the door.

"You ready?" she asked. A look of panic crossed his face, but he gained control over the fear and nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said. "Let's do this."

######################################################################################################

Mountain View Cemetery was lush and green as Jax and Tara parked their rental car. As Tara got out, a rush of thick, oppressive heat smacked her face. _I forgot about summers._ She glanced out at the black tent-like awning. _There he is._ She bit her lip as she shut the door. Jax's door echoed behind her. As she stared at the sun-soaked horizon, she spied Althea beneath the awning. Tig and Venus flanked her.

Jax and Tara slowly walked towards Althea, careful to step over graves as they moved ahead. Jax walked a few steps ahead of his wife as he stopped first at Opie's grave. His fingertips reverently traced the cool stone as tears flowed freely from Jax's eyes. To his left lay Piney; at his right was Donna. _Donna_. Jax turned to face her stone, and Tara's heart shattered as he bent to kiss the weathered marker. Jax moved forward once more, only stopping at JT's and Gemma's gravesites.

A vibration shook Tara's purse. Quickly, she opened it and glanced at the number. _I'm sorry, Thomas_ , she thought. _I'll call you back._

Jax didn't move. For a second, he simply stood and allowed the memories to drown him. Then, with a sigh of what might've been, he moved towards Chibs' final resting place.

Sprays of black roses and lush greenery surrounded the stunning mahogany creation. Althea stood at the foot of the casket, and like the others, her back was turned. Tig and Venus had moved forward to greet the Tellers. Tig wept freely as he hugged Jax. Tara and Venus stood silently and allowed the old friends their moment.

"You okay, Althea?" Tig asked. She nodded, but Tara could see the pain ooze from her. _I just want you back! Please come back to me!_

"I'll survive," Althea said. "I have no choice. Johnny needs me. I can't break down, not now." Jax's heart immediately softened towards her. _It can't be easy to take care of others, but we never take care of ourselves._

As they stood around the grave, each person became lost in their own thoughts. _I should have never opened that door,_ Jax thought. _I could've let him keep knocking._ The grief and sadness was palpable, and they were so emotionally lost, they didn't hear the slight rustle of grass as another approached. Sounds could only be heard if one cared to listen. At that moment, no one cared; in fact, they were so deep in their grief, they didn't know anyone else was even present. It was Althea that finally heard the sound. Her dark eyes looked up, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Holy fucking shit, do none of you fuckers listen to directions?" There was more heartbreak than anger in her voice. Before her stood an incredulous Bobby and Happy. Even though they were a good couple hundred feet away, it was more than obvious that the old bikers recognized the couple standing before them. Both wore masks of shock and confusion. The look was returned by Althea. Jax and Tara, their backs to the bikers, turned to see who stood behind them. Jax's mouth tightened. Tara's simply fell open.

"What the fuck is going on, Jarry?" Bobby croaked in disbelief. His bloodshot eyes carefully surveyed them both. Frozen in place, he locked eyes with Jax, who was astounded at how the once vibrant and always partying Vice President had aged. His once salt-and-pepper curls were much whiter and much thinner than it was for Jax's goodbye all those years ago.

The old man was a stout as Jax remembered, and his condition was obviously worsened by Bobby's total disregard for his health, but his eyes were still fucking brilliant. Now, they overflowed with tears.

"They're alive," Jarry said with no preamble. "They joined WitSec after the girls were born. They gave up August Marks and the IRA in exchange for your freedom and your club's absolution of all sins."

Bobby could feel anxiety build within his chest as he stood firmly planted in the graveyard's soil. Happy's typical death stare had been reduced a watery mess.

"This isn't real," Happy said, disbelieving. "This isn't real. It can't be. I just can't." The words were a litany, repeated over and over.

"It's very real," Jax whispered. "I'm so sorry." _This is so much harder than it was with Tig._ Regret flooded his veins as he watched his old friends hover between their love for him, the truth, and their newfound anger and confusion.

"What are you doing back here?" Althea questioned. She was desperately trying to diffuse the situation. "I told you I wanted to be alone."

"That was two and a half hours ago," Bobby returned. "We got worried. I asked Happy to drive me over."

"I didn't hear bikes," Tara said, more to herself than aloud.

"I can't ride anymore," Bobby explained. "The ole ticker won't take it anymore. He brought me in the truck." The old man gestured to an old Chevy pickup parked a few feet away, on the other side of the graveyard.

"How did this-" Happy began.

"Izzy," Jax said simply. "This all started with him coming after Tara and the twins. After almost losing them all, Tara and I knew we had to get out. Only WitSec could do that."

The silence that fell was an awkward one. Bobby and Happy were still wide-eyed and disbelieving, while Jax and Tara had no idea what to say. Tara felt her bag vibrate again. _Not now, Thomas,_ she internally admonished.

"They ended up in North Carolina," Tig tried to explain. Venus said nothing. Her face was perfect and composed as she placed a worried hand on Tig's shoulder.

"What does that have to do with Chibs? How did you know he was gone?" Bobby asked.

"He knew the truth," Tara answered. "He just didn't know where we specifically were. When Trinity was—" She hesitated for a second. "When Trinity was murdered, Chibs found us. He thought the IRA was planning something, so our plan was for him to stay until the end of July. That was supposed to give him insight into what was happening, but-"

"He was shot at Abel's wedding," Jax said. Bobby's eyes grew wide. Happy, completely shell-shocked, shook his head.

"I'm out," Happy said through gritted teeth. "I don't need this fucking shit." Pivoting on his heel, he stalked toward the truck. Venus glanced at Tig, who nodded, then followed SAMCRO's Sergeant at Arms as he walked away.

"Abel's married?" Bobby asked. Part of him wanted to follow Happy, but he thought better of it. He didn't know what was more shocking, Abel's marriage or the fact that he was making small talk with two supposed dead people.

"Yeah, and he's gonna be a father come February," Jax replied with a smile. The idea was still strange to Jax, but he was getting used to it.

"I'll be damned," Bobby drawled. "I can't—I can't believe this. I just can't fucking believe it."

"Me either," Jax admitted.

"So what the fuck are you doing here now?" Bobby posed the question. This moment was utter madness, and Bobby Munson had no idea how to handle it.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Jax candidly admitted. "And I want to know who's killing the people I love—first Trinity, now Chibs—who's next? Is it me? Tara? Althea? SAMCRO?"

"And you think we're going to help you?" Bobby coldly laughed. "You lied to us—well— _almost_ all of us."

"Someone _had_ to know," Jax countered. "Someone outside of me, outside of Tara and Althea. I trusted him. Now I can see I wasn't wrong."

"You didn't trust me?" Bobby asked. Jax licked his lips.

"That wasn't the point, Bobby. Chibs has connections you don't have. He was the logical choice." Bobby snorted.

"Fuck logic," Bobby retorted. "You should've told me. I ain't no rat. I guess you can't say the same."

"I didn't rat—" Jax stopped and shook his head. Arguing was futile. _This isn't how it's supposed to go,_ Jax cried internally. _You're supposed to be glad, to feel relief, to—to—"_ Jax's eyes moved to Happy and Tig, who appeared to be having a heated argument.

"I'm gonna get him before this gets worse," Venus said quietly as she began to walk away. Only Jax, Althea, Tara, and Bobby stood around the grave. No one spoke. Bobby was still as he stared at his old friend's final resting place.

"You should've told me, Jax," Bobby murmured darkly.

"I couldn't," Jax replied. It was true. The fewer that knew, the better.

Tara stood by Althea and watched as Jax and Bobby remained frozen. It was almost a game: whomever gave in first was weak. Another vibration penetrated her purse as she watched. Annoyed, she stepped out of the awning and into the harsh sunshine. Pulling the phone out of the bag, she had to shade the screen in order to see the caller's name. _Lala. Wait._ Jax's observation came back to haunt her. _The girls never bother calling_.

"Lala?" Tara answered. She prayed her daughter dialed her by mistake, but something in her gut told her that wasn't the case. Her heartrate accelerated, and her palms became clammy as she clutched the phone.

"Mama," Delylah sobbed into the receiver. "Mama, something's happened. Something terrible." Tara closed her eyes and began to rock back and forth.

"What baby?" She spoke to Delylah like she would a five year old.

"We just left for a moment," she cried.

"Who?" Tara asked. "Who left?"

"Abel, Lucius, and Victor were at the shop. Opie and I just went out to pick up stuff for tonight's supper—" Tara opened her eyes as she swayed.

"The door was wide open when we got back," Delylah continued. "And it was a wreck inside. Our—couches-the kitchen—oh, God, Mama—" The young girl dissolved into agonizing sobs as she fought valiantly to continue. "I rushed upstairs—I had to get up there."

Tara's mouth was full of cotton balls as she listened to Delylah's broken cries.

"It was so much worse when I got up there. So much worse, so much worse, so much worse," Delylah chanted.

"Jax!" Tara called to her husband. Pulling himself away from the stalemate tete-a-tete with Bobby, he rushed by her side. Fortified by the presence, she continued with Delylah.

"What'd you see, Lala?" Tara asked. "What did you see?"

"Oh, God, Mama, there was blood everywhere. I mean, _everywhere_." The words were a hybrid between a scream and a moan. "And she was gone."

"Who?" Tara ran through all the kids Delylah had mentioned earlier. _Lala and Opie were at the store. Abel, Lucius, and Victor were at the shop._ Tara sighed in frustration. Oh _God._ Tara turned to Jax, her eyes full of terror.

"Hannah," Delylah cried. "They took Hannah!"

"They took Hannah, Jax," Tara whispered to her husband. She was breathless, speechless.

"What?!" Jax's eyes grew fearful and wide as he snatched the phone from Tara's hand. "Delylah, you need to tell me. Who took Hannah?"

"I don't know," Delylah screamed. "I don't fucking know! They just left a note—and it's—oh Gooood." The last word was a long, plaintive wail.

"It's what, Lala?" Jax urged.

"It's written in blood—oh Jesus, what if it's Hannah's blood?!" Delylah sobbed. Jax's gut churned with nausea, and he felt as if he was going to vomit. The world spun around him as his worst nightmare was quickly coming true.

"What does it say?" Jax yelled. She didn't respond. She couldn't keep her composure. She just sobbed into the speaker. "Delylah? Honey, please—please talk to me. Just read it to me." Delylah sobbed harder. Hysteria was setting in. Jax could hear the rustle of paper in Delylah's hands. No mattered how hard he tried to steel himself, nothing could prepare him for the words coming out of his daughter's mouth.

"One Teller down, six more to go," Delylah croaked into the phone. Jax exhaled jaggedly as a lump formed in his throat.

"We're on the next flight out, Delylah," Jax stated as his eyes landed on a horrified Tara. "We're going to find Hannah. I promise." Delylah's sobs slowed.

"Just hurry, Daddy," Delylah mumbled fearfully. "I don't think they're gonna stop—at least not until we're all fucking dead."


	20. Chapter 20

"What do you mean, there's nothing you can do, Althea?" Jax's eyes were anguished as he stared at Charming's sheriff. It had been a couple of hours since Delylah's desperate call. In the time that had passed, Tara's ear had been glued to her phone. Between calming her daughters, relaying messages to Thomas and Will, and trying to get in touch with Hannah's parents, Tara maintained her cool. It was amazing to Jax how easily his wife stepped back into the chaos. Her old neonatal surgeon kind of calm proved more than valuable now, and her experience as a former old lady didn't hurt either.

"My hands are fucking tied, Jax," Althea replied through gritted teeth. "The soonest flight I can get you is at eleven. There's nothing sooner, not on this kind of notice, not to bumfuck North Carolina. You're gonna have to wait it out. It's less than six hours."

Jax bowed his head in frustration. He knew Althea had done everything she possibly could, pulled every favor she had left, but those favors were now hitting a breaking point, especially since she'd essentially moved mountains to get Chibs' body back to Charming. Althea watched Jax as he deeply inhaled, and her heart went out to him. She couldn't help but feel like Hannah's kidnapping was her fault. _I told him I'd make sure they were protected._ She sighed. _I can't do anything right, it seems._ Self-pity flooded her veins as she fought back tears.

"Abel isn't talking to anyone, Althea." The words tumbled from Jax's mouth. "He's like me when he's in shock. I have to get to him. His wife is pregnant with my grandchild. My _first_ grandchild. If anything happens to them-" He stopped short, remembering her recent agonizing loss. Althea's brown eyes were full of unshed tears. She knew what was at stake. She knew better than anyone. "I guess we just hurry up and wait," Jax mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He stood upright and gazed in her direction, but it was if he looked right through her.

"I'll keep trying, Jax," Althea said quietly. Every time she thought she'd have time to mourn Chibs, something else stood in her way, but her heart ached for Jax and Tara. Hannah was innocent, as was her unborn baby. She didn't ask to be part of this life, not like Althea had. The sheriff knew exactly what SAMCRO was all about when she signed up to Chibs' old lady. As her eyes followed Jax walking towards the bar, a steely resolve settled in her veins. _I'll make this right_ , she silently vowed. _I promise you, on Filip's memory, that I'll get Hannah home safely._ She inhaled deeply as she thought of the child Hannah carried. _I hope I can save you, too._ With an exhale, she grabbed her phone and left the room.

Jax still couldn't believe he was back at the Clubhouse. It but it seemed like the only option as Althea tried to use her leverage as sheriff to help Jax and Tara home. After eighteen years, nothing had really changed. Mug shots adorned the walls. The mahogany bar was the same one that had been built after that fateful IRA explosion. Jax's jaw tightened as he felt SAMCRO's ghosts stare into the back of his skull. His own photo was still prominently displayed, but Jax counted it as one of many apparitions—after all, that man no longer existed, not in Jax's mind.

"Here," Bobby pushed a shot of whiskey in Jax's direction. Jax pulled up an ancient barstool and took a seat. He grabbed the shot and downed it quickly. He tapped the bar, and Bobby poured another. _Some things never change,_ Jax thought. _He still knows when to sling shots my way. I don't even have to say it._ Had their reunion been a better one, Jax might've made a joke in the old man's direction. As it stood, the only reason he'd even set foot onto Teller-Morrow property was due to Hannah's abduction. Althea didn't want Jax or Tara languishing in their hotel room. She was the one that talked them into to coming to TM. Bobby and Happy grumbled their disapproval, but in the end, they deferred to Chibs' old lady and allowed it.

Jax felt Tara's arms around his waist. He leaned into her. It was second nature.

"Who was on the phone?" he asked. Tara released her grip on Jax and pulled a stool up next to him. Bobby poured another shot of whiskey. Raising his bushy white eyebrows, he silently asked Tara if she wanted one. Tara declined, the shaking of her head was almost imperceptible. Taking the hint, Bobby pushed it in Jax's direction. Before Tara could object, the liquor was already making its way down Jax's throat. Tara closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Thomas," Tara answered. "He's on 321 now—he's about an hour out of town."

"Doing ninety down the highway, no doubt," Jax said with a worried, sad smile.

"Takes after his old man, I take it?" Bobby asked, unable to help himself. There was a part of him that wanted to know about John Teller's grandkids, and there was a part of him that didn't. The cemetery had been quite a shock, but the oldest SAMCRO biker couldn't quite wrap his head around his anger. He should have been happy to see Jax, alive and well, after all that time. He should have been ecstatic that Tara and the kids were alive too, but all he saw as they stood by Chibs' grave was a traitor. All the years they stood as brothers within the club were gone. To turn Witness Protection was the lowest of the low in the biker world, and that was why Happy stayed away. He was somewhere out in Charming, with Quinn and Rat tailing him. It was a precaution to ensure the old man didn't do anything stupid. Bobby sighed as he wrestled with his emotions. Jax and Tara Teller may not have sold out SAMCRO, but they still let the Feds that much closer to a life that should have been kept in shadows.

"Yeah," Jax replied with a light chuckle. "Thank God he's never touched a motorcycle."

"Will is driving," Tara interjected with a glare in Bobby's direction. She hadn't taken well to the reception she and Jax had received. While she didn't expect an open-armed party, she certainly hadn't expected the frigid reaction from Bobby.

"Will drives like an old woman," a slightly buzzed Jax stated. Tara grinned slightly. It was the first smile she'd had in the last couple of hours. It felt good.

"Who's Will?" Bobby again posed a question. Tara's expression dropped as she narrowed her eyes.

"None of your goddamned business, remember?" Tara was a study in resting bitch face as she stared Bobby down. "You sure as hell didn't give a fuck a couple of hours ago, so why bother now?"

"Tara, cut him a break," Jax wheedled. "Today has been a shock for all of us."

"I think arriving at a funeral after eighteen years away only to be called a rat, is pretty shocking; especially when you realize that the _rats_ never once implicated the club in anything. To add insult to injury, having your pregnant daughter-in-law kidnapped-and quite possibly killed-pretty much trumps the walking dead, in my opinion." Jax whistled low. His old lady had completely resurfaced, and she wasn't backing down. Of all of the club, she'd expected Bobby to react differently. She expected Happy's anger. She never once thought Bobby would join in on it. It hurt more than she'd expected it to.

"I call that a tie," Bobby rumbled, annoyed. He poured a shot of Jack for himself and downed it quickly.

"Of course you would," Tara fired back with a brittle laugh. "Just like the old days: SAMCRO's problems are always first, and Jax's are second. I'm glad we left when we did. _My husband_ finally got a little bit of perspective."

Bobby's lips formed a thin, angry line beneath his beard. There were so many things he wanted to say, but in the interest of keeping a fragile peace in the midst of all the pain Jax and Tara were experiencing, he remained silent. Tara stared at him for a moment, and disgusted by Bobby's lack of response, she stood and walked towards the double doors. With a grunt of aggravation, she slammed the heavy door open and walked into the blinding sunlight. Once outside, she sat on one of the picnic tables.

A slight breeze blew the long hem of her black dress. Tara welcomed it. Any moving air was a delightful treat in desert heat. She closed her eyes and allowed the warmth to settle in her bones. It was a dry, arid heat, so different than the thick humidity North Carolina offered. If she allowed herself, Tara knew she'd miss this place. That's why she kept a tight reign on those emotions. She couldn't bring herself to miss a place that caused so much pain.

The sound of a big diesel engine caused Tara's eyes to snap open. A massive, pearlescent white Suburban rumbled into the TM parking lot. The driver was more than familiar with the parking lot; it was obvious as it easily parked among the club's staggered Harleys. As the engine cut off, Tara stared, unsure of who she'd see. As the door opened, one long, slender leg appeared behind the open door. The second followed, and as the driver closed the door, Tara's breath caught.

 _Lyla._ Still too thin but even more beautiful, she sauntered forward. Dressed in too short denim cutoffs and a loose, flowy blue chiffon top, her heels clacked on the concrete as she neared Tara. At first, she wondered who the hell was sitting on the tables, but as she neared, her curiosity turned to shock. She stopped about five feet in front of Tara and removed her massive sunglasses. Large, thickly lined blue eyes registered confusion and disbelief as Tara stared back, unsure of how to begin.

"Am I fucking crazy?" The skinny blonde's voice was strained. "I must have finally gone off the deep end."

"You're not crazy, Lyla," Tara carefully responded. "I am very much alive."

Lyla stood, unable to move, unable to breathe. In the months leading up to Jax and Tara's departure, Lyla had been their backbone. Both she and Venus stepped in and helped care for the boys while Tara was pregnant with the twins and completely bedridden. She was there the night Izzy killed Nero and tried to kill her. Back then, Opie Winston's widow was Tara's best friend. Tara was devastated to leave her, and over all the years that had passed, there wasn't a day that Tara didn't think of her.

"How?" Lyla asked. "How is this possible?"

"It's a long story," Tara said with a faint, apologetic smile. "Probably too long for today."

"Were you at the funeral?" Lyla asked. Tara shook her head in the negative. Slowly, Lyla walked towards her, but she was careful to maintain some distance. A small part of Lyla honestly believed she was dreaming.

"We came after," Tara explained. "Althea arranged it."

Lyla nodded in understanding. She was now beneath the massive steel canopy that shaded the picnic tables. Tara wanted to hug her old friend, but the confusion in Lyla's pale blue eyes made her think twice. Instead, she gestured Lyla to sit beside her, and to Tara's relief, Lyla took her up on the invitation. They sat, side-by-side, staring out at the Charming horizon.

"How'd you know about Chibs?" Lyla asked. She was too amazed to cry. She couldn't believe she was sitting next to Tara, much less talking to her. _I've missed you so much._ Lyla fumbled through her purse and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter. Out of habit, she offered Tara one, and the former doctor politely declined.

"He actually came to us after—after Trinity-"

"Was murdered?" Lyla finished. Tara nodded. "You know no one here believes she killed herself, right?" Again, Tara nodded.

"That's why Chibs found us," Tara began. She gave Lyla a quick overview over the last few weeks, ending the story with Hannah's kidnapping. Tara almost broke as she told Lyla of Hannah's pregnancy. Lyla pulled out another cigarette and lit it with the one she was finishing. _This story deserves hot-boxing._

"Goddamn, Tara," Lyla murmured. "Goddamn."

"I know, right?" Tara replied with a rhetorical question. Of all the reunions of the last few days, the one with Lyla had been the easiest. It was as if a couple of hours, not eighteen years, had passed. Tara recalled a time when she detested the stunning pornstar. Those feelings were truly a lifetime ago.

Lyla took another long drag as the clubhouse door swung open. Seeing Lyla by Tara, Jax froze in the doorway for a moment. He hadn't expected that. Lyla turned, and when she saw him, the reality Tara had just given her clicked, and she dissolved into tears. Taken aback, Tara wrapped a comforting arm around Lyla's shoulders. Jax approached them, but he stayed at arm's length.

"You don't know how happy I am," Lyla sobbed in Tara's arms. "You have no idea how happy I am to know you're alive." Lyla's broken words made Tara cry as they rocked back and forth. It was hard for Jax to maintain his composure, but he moved forward and sat by Tara's side. His long arms held them both as Tara allowed her tears to flow.

They all heard the door swing open, but none of them turned to see who ventured towards them. The sound of boots on pavement moved closer. Jax turned in the direction of the sound.

"Althea wants you, Jax," Tig said quietly. Jax looked up at his old friend. Jax nodded and stood. With a whispered apology, he walked back into the clubhouse.

"You guys gonna be okay?" Tig asked. Breaking their embrace, both Tara and Lyla nodded. Satisfied with the answer, Tig turned and went back inside as well, leaving the women alone. He half-jogged to catch up with Jax. Before they got to the bar, Althea stopped them both.

"My connection at San Francisco International just called," Althea said. "I've made arrangements for a flight to Charlotte. You have no idea how many blowjobs it took to make that happen." Jax's jaw dropped at Althea's attempt at humor.

A sigh of true relief escaped Jax's mouth. "When?"

"Eight-thirty," Althea replied.

Jax whistled through his teeth. "Damn, you gotta give a lot of blowjobs."

"Who said I do?" Althea returned, almost playfully. The deadpan style was almost too much, and Jax didn't know what to say. Althea couldn't help it; she did enjoy Jax's discomfort, and she wanted nothing more than to continue it, but the confused look on his face made Althea think twice. "You have everything from the hotel, right?" she asked in all seriousness. Jax nodded. He and Tara had stopped by on the way to TM and grabbed it all.

"I'm gonna go pack," Tig said to Althea. Not waiting for an answer, he rushed down the hallway. Jax's eyebrows raised. Venus followed him down the hallway.

"What are they packing for?" Jax queried. Althea's dark eyes were unfathomable as she returned Jax's annoyed gaze.

"He is going with you," Althea replied. _The_ tone of her voice made it seem like Jax should have known better. _Of course they'll go with you,_ Jax's head was filled with sarcasm. _Why not?_ Jax could list a million reasons why they shouldn't go.

"No, he isn't," Jax vehemently denied. "I'm not gonna lose another brother because of this—this mess."

"I don't think you understand," Althea said, "I wasn't given a choice. Tig and Venus are insisting on coming with us."

"Us?" Again, Jax was surprised. Althea hadn't mentioned returning to North Carolina with them. "You're coming too?" Again, Althea nodded.

"I am," she said. "John is staying with Bobby."

"But why?" Jax asked. "Helping us won't bring Chibs back, Althea. "

Althea's throat tightened at the mention of her beloved.

"It may not bring him back, but it will lead me to the bastard that killed him. I have just as much vested in this as you do, Jax. You're not gonna change my mind." Jax's jaw clenched as he swallowed down a heady mix of frustration and anger, but deep down, he knew she was right. Instead of arguing the point, he stayed silent.

"I'm going to head home and put a bag together. I'll be back in twenty minutes." Not giving Jax time to talk her out of it, she turned on her heel, strode purposefully towards the doors, and left. Jax growled in frustration. He didn't want this. He was trying to divest himself of SAMCRO, but the club had a way of taking his life over. Tara's words from that morning echoed in his head as he watched his wife and Lyla dart back into the clubhouse.

 _We pretended to die. We schlepped across the country, to a middle-of-nowhere town in the South, and SAMCRO still found us. It still came knocking on our door. It's our fate. Our destiny. We can't fight it anymore. Whatever happens—we have to face it. End it._

"Where is Althea going?" Tara asked as she walked towards him. Lyla followed closely behind her.

"She got us an earlier flight," Jax responded. "She's going home to pack. She's coming with us."

Tara wasn't surprised. She would do the same, if the situation was reversed. Within seconds, Tig reappeared, with Venus hot on his heels. They carried a couple of bags between them. Now it was Tara's turn to be surprised.

"You guys are coming too?" Tig and Venus nodded in unison. Like her husband, Tara gritted her teeth. _Of course we can't figure this out on our own. You just have to become involved, don't you?_ As much as she loved them and missed them, she knew that the secrets she'd fought so hard to keep private would rear their ugly heads. The town she and Jax now lived in wasn't Charming—they knew nothing of renegade biker gangs, of the danger that surrounded the kutte. They sure as hell didn't understand it, just like they would never understand Venus Trager. Tara eyed her uniquely stunning friend, and she knew that would be an issue to some of the more narrow-minded old biddies of Silver Spring.

"I don't think they know what they're getting into," Tara whispered, more to Jax than to them, but Venus' keen ears heard all. Her beautiful sepia eyes were sad as she smiled.

"You have to remember where I am from, Tara," Venus replied. "Before we ever anywhere near Charming, I was a little boy in Alabama. Alice moved me to California when I was eight. My issues with who I was—and who I am now-begin in a tiny Southern town. If you think I forget, walk down Main Street with me. I remember where I come from every single time a stranger scowls in my direction—or when they cross the street altogether to flee from me. If you think prejudice only exists in the South, Tara, I advise you to think again."

Immediately chastened, Tara looked at her feet. Embarrassment flooded her veins, and she was ashamed. Lifting her eyes to meet Venus, she wiped the tears that fell. Venus, empathetic soul she was, reached out to help her old friend.

"I know you didn't mean anything by it, darling," Venus whispered. "I know you're coming from a good place." She reached up and stroked Tara's tear-stained cheek. "Just know that it's an upward battle every day. I haven't grown complacent in my old age, nor have I extinguished the fire I have within me—the fire that demands I be accepted for who I am. Alex taught me to never accept anything less."

Venus' glorious eyes turned to her lover, and Tig glowed in her direction. The sight melted Tara's heart.

"Come," Venus whispered. "Let's wait for Althea outside." With a nod, Tara then gestured to Jax to grab Venus' bags. Doing his wife's bidding, with Tig by his side, Jax followed Venus and Tara as they walked out. _Husband duties,_ Jax thought with a laugh as they moved out to the metal canopies.

Lyla trailed behind as Tara resumed sitting on the picnic tables. Tara wanly smiled as Lyla faced her. The blonde bombshell's face was swollen as her lips trembled.

"I just got you back," Lyla cried. Tara's chest heaved as she nodded in understanding.

"I know," Tara replied sadly. Her heart was torn. As much as she needed to get home to her son and her broken family, there was a part of her that wanted to stay and reminisce. There was a part of her that wanted to remember Opie and tell stories about the old times.

"You know what's funny?" Lyla asked through her tears. "Kenny and Ellie are grown. Kenny joined the Army and is loving it. Ellie's married with two boys, and Piper just moved to Seattle with friends—he wants to try his hand at the fishing business. I am alone for the first time in years, and I was okay with it—until now."

Tara's eyes slammed shut. Her gut felt like it'd been hit. "Until we brought back all the memories." Lyla nodded.

"I've spent all these years building Red Woody into something huge and amazing. When I was alone with three kids, I had to be on point, all the time. Now, I just have me—and it scares the hell outta me."

Tara grabbed Lyla's hand. "Come with us." Her hazel eyes were huge.

"I can't. Not now," Lyla said quietly. "I don't think I could leave the business with no warning—and the SAMCRO of today is not the SAMCRO you left behind. There hasn't been violence and death like this in very long time. I don't know if I want to go back to all that—and I think that's all you're gonna have once you're back."

Tara nodded in understanding as dust kicked up in the TM parking lot. Althea, true to her word, was back within twenty minutes. She parked the car and rushed out. Opening the trunk of the sleek, two door convertible, she pulled out a large rolling bag. The passenger door swung open, and John stepped out. The boy looked peaked and tired, but his eyes were dry. Althea left the bag standing for a moment and went to her son. Tara, Jax, Lyla, Venus, and Tig stood, transfixed, as they looked on. She reached up and brushed the boy's hair back. She said something to him as they embraced. When they broke, they walked towards the group.

"Uncle Bobby is inside," Althea said low as she took John into her arms once more. Tears fell down her cheeks as she let her son go. The boy didn't speak to anyone else as he passed. They just watched as he walked into TM, closing the door behind him. Althea didn't stop crying. In that moment, everything hit her hard: Chibs' death, her son's loss, _her_ loss. The Tellers having all the turmoil they did—it came out in her sobs, in her aching throat, in her shaking body. The last couple of weeks had been a living hell. A pure nightmare. She kept it all inside. For John, for Jax and Tara, for every single member of SAMCRO, and now, as her son walked away, she could just let go.

Tara and Lyla didn't miss a beat—they encircled Althea and held her close. Venus walked to her.

"Let it out, Althea," she whispered. "It's the only way Filip will be truly free."

"I don't want to let him go," she sobbed. "I want him right here—right with me, with his son. It's where he belongs."

"Not anymore, baby," Venus murmured as she gathered the tiny woman in her arms. "He belongs with the angels, watching us all." Althea sobbed into Venus' ample bosom as Tara and Lyla stroked her back. Tig and Jax stood outside the fray, unsure of what to say or do. Within seconds, the crying stopped. Althea breathed deeply, settling herself, and she pulled away from Venus. Tig pulled a handkerchief from his kutte pocket and handed it to Althea. Tara smiled at the oddness of it all. Althea wiped her eyes.

"I'm ready," she said softly. She straightened her clothes and smoothed her dark hair back.

"Lemme drive you," Lyla volunteered. Tara's eyebrows went up. "The Suburban will hold you all."

Tara looked Jax, then Althea. Both nodded. Taking the cue, Jax and Tig began grabbing bags and loading them into the Suburban. Venus wrapped an arm around Althea as they walked towards the giant SUV. Tara and Lyla mirrored that as they walked behind. Within minutes, everyone was loaded within the Suburban. Tara sat in the passenger seat as Lyla fired the SUV to life. Unable to help herself, she rolled the window down and took the scenery in. _Will I ever see Charming again?_

In the distance, she heard a random motorcycle rev its engine. She had no idea if it was SAMCRO or just another guy on the back of a Harley, but as her heart raced, she knew she'd return. She knew now that, no matter what, Charming—and every single person in it—was just a part of her heart and of her soul.


	21. Chapter 21

Abel been at the shop when he'd received the call from Delylah. At first, he ignored it, thinking it another trivial conversation from his little sister. When his phone rang, he was elbow deep in a 1978 Chevy K5 Blazer. Tricked out with gleaming wheels and shiny jet black paint, the old truck was almost sexual in its sheer, brutish beauty. Jax had been given the task of rebuilding the engine upon his return from Abel's wedding, but Abel didn't mind taking it over from his old man. In fact, the prospect was so delicious, he'd enlisted both Lucius and Victor to help. The girls were fine, they reasoned. Before their departure, Jax and Tara assured them all that a mix of law enforcement would be watching over them.

"Life has to go on like nothing is going on," Jax explained. "The town has no idea who we really are, and life has to go on like we are still The Morgans—like I am Eric and your mother is Elizabeth. People are still gonna call you Adam." Abel stiffened slightly at his father's words. It both amazed and comforted him that he and Hannah both had already grown accustomed to his real name.

"We have to pretend like there is no Jax, no Tara. They're dead and gone, until we say otherwise." Again, Abel stiffened. The words were a little too real, and images of dead parents suddenly illuminated his mind.

"We can do it, Daddy," Delylah had spoken up. Abel's eyebrows raised. The girl he'd grown up relentlessly teasing was now turning into a calm, self-assured woman. It was a little strange, but he liked it. As his eyes rested on Victor, who then sat at her side, Abel decided he liked his little sister hanging with his new brother-in-law. He suited her well.

"I know you can, baby," Jax said gently. "You, Abel, Hannah, and Ophelia—you're the ones I worry about most. Your mom and I are used to this, even though it's been awhile." Jax watched as Opie blankly stared at nothing in particular. He worried about his daughter, but he also knew that her whole world had changed, and it would take time for her to adjust.

"There will be cops around," Tara jumped in. "You may not see them, but Althea has assured us that on and off duty officers, along with a few of her friends, will be watching periodically. That's why we have you all here. It's for protection."

"But honestly," Jax finished, "We fully expect the threat to be on us. Whomever did this to Chibs is looking for people affiliated with SAMCRO. None of you are affiliated with the club. You knew nothing of it, didn't grow up in it. I think we're more at risk returning to Charming than you are by staying here."

That's why Abel brought the guys to the shop. Delylah, Ophelia, and Hannah were together. When Victor brought up questions, Lucius and Delylah quelled his objections immediately.

"C'mon, man—" Lucius had teased. "We've been in the house with these crazy women for a week now. It'll be good to go over and help Abel get that engine rebuilt." Victor shook his head. There was no way he was leaving. It was too dangerous. Victor hadn't seen a single cop. _They can't possibly be that good at hiding,_ he thought. _They're just not here._ Chills laced his arms as Delylah wrapped her arms around his waist. Her long dark hair grazed his shoulder as stood on tiptoe and placed a sweet kiss there.

"Baby, go," she whispered. "Lucius won't go if you don't—and he _needs_ to get out." Victor's eyes lit on the younger man. _He's so fucked up_. His beautiful green eyes were tired and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled and messy. He looked older, he looked exhausted, and he looked like he was going through pure and unadulterated hell. Victor knew the kid was trying his best to keep Opie settled and sane. The poor girl was in a world of hurt, and no one could fix it but her.

"I'll drive," Victor said to Lucius, and Victor's heart went out to him as a smile crossed the kid's face. He looked like it was Christmas morning. He nodded and ran upstairs to grab his shoes. Victor turned and faced Delylah. She looked every single bit of eighteen in her black yoga pants and loose purple tank top. As she slid into him, he caught the glimpse of hot pink sports bra beneath. He stroked her loose dark curls as turned her face upward to him.

"Thank you," Delylah whispered. "I'm gonna try and get Opie and Hannah out today. They need it too. Maybe with y'all outta the house, they'll at least get to the store with me or something—"

"I don't like it," Victor's mouth was set in a hard, firm line, and his dark eyes were even darker with worry. "I don't like leaving y'all here alone."

"We'll be fine," Delylah promised. "It's just a couple of hours."

It had only been a couple of hours since Victor and Lucius arrived when the call from Delylah came. Victor was also elbow deep in the engine when he saw Abel's greasy hand delve into his pocket. His heart pounded as he watched Abel deny the call. Victor tried not think about it, and he focused on the task at hand. When it rang again, Victor stopped what he was doing. Abel reached in his pocket and grabbed the phone. The word _Lala_ popped up on the screen. Victor's heart leapt in his throat as Abel stared at the screen.

"You need to answer it, man," Victor gently stated. Nodding, Abel clicked the phone to answer it. Before he could even say hello, he heard Delylah's tears.

"Lala?" Abel's voice shook as he began to pace. Victor, who still had a socket wrench in his hand, placed the tool on the truck as he strained to hear what was happening. "Lala, what happened?"

"She's gone, Abel!" Delylah's voice rang clearly throughout the confines of the noisy garage. Victor froze, as did Abel. The two men locked eyes as horror sank into their bones.

"Wha-" Abel didn't even have time to speak before Delylah began screaming. Victor's face was as white as the t-shirt he wore. He heard it. Delylah's scream. The terror. The sobbing.

"We're coming Lala!" Abel screamed into the receiver. "Stay on the—" The phone went dead. Abel's blue eyes were massive with fear. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. It was all he heard as Victor, oblivious to the grease and oil covering his arms and hands, sought the keys to Jax's truck. A sigh of relief left his lips as he found them, but Abel didn't hear that. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Abel followed Victor out the door. Suddenly, he stopped, and Abel, in a haze of fury and fear, pushed Victor forward. Victor, equally scared and equally agitated, fought valiantly to maintain the shreds of calm that remained.

"What the fuck?" Abel yelled. "Why are you stopping?"

"Lucius!" Victor replied, his dark eyes were lit with a strange mix of rage and guilt. _I knew better than to leave them,_ his brain bellowed. _My gut told me—_

"I'm right here, y'all." Suddenly, Lucius was there, calm and collected. His green eyes were confused. "What's going on?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Abel seethed. Victor gritted his teeth. _He's losing it. And he just might get the girls killed if he doesn't calm the hell down._

"The bathroom?" Lucius answered, still obviously confused.

"C'mon," Victor said calmly. "I'll explain in the truck." Abel had already broke into a full- fledged run to the Silverado. Lucius, ever mindful of the shop, turned and yelled at the remaining mechanics that there was an emergency at the house, and without further explanation, he ran after Victor, who'd already joined Abel in the truck. The engine was revved and the truck was in drive as Abel slung it in Lucius direction. Had the kid not paid attention, he could have very well been hit, but he watched as Victor propped the door open. Without thinking of what would happen if he missed, Lucius leapt into the passenger seat of the truck, slamming the door behind him. They were quiet as they sped down the highway.

"Abel, you're going close to a hundred," Lucius whispered.

"I don't give a fuck," Abel spit. "You didn't hear Delylah."

"She was screaming bloody fucking murder, man," Victor said. Lucius looked at Victor, but he didn't return the gaze. Instead, the older man stared straight ahead, his mind filled with what he should have done. Lucius, still unsure of exactly what was going on, stared ahead, praying Abel could control of Jax's Chevy.

Within minutes, they arrived at Jax and Tara's house. The car the twins shared, an old Toyota, was parked in the driveway. As Abel slammed the truck in park, the men jumped out and ran towards the house. Abel led the pack as they rushed towards the front door. Victor steeled himself for having to ram it open, but as they approached the entryway, the door was wide open. Without a word, Victor quickly knelt, and pulling the leg of his jeans up, he revealed an ankle holster. Lucius mumbled low as Victor pulled a Ruger LCP from the holster. Stainless steel, compact, with a wicked recoil, Lucius had coveted the gun for a long time, only seeing it in gun shops. To see it in such close proximity was cooler than he'd thought it be.

"Lemme go first." Victor's voice was a low, guttural growl as he moved past Abel. It was Abel's first reaction to push back, but remembering Victor's height and weight difference over him, he thought better of it. The Ruger in the Marine's hands made the decision that much easier. Victor stepped forward and gently kicked the door open. With his gun raised, he entered the house. Abel and Lucius followed.

"Holy fucking shit," Abel breathed. The entire house was ripped to shreds. The living room was a mess of broken glass and torn couch cushions. The art Tara had so painstakingly searched for was slashed and thrown to the ground. As Abel turned astounded eyes to the kitchen, he snapped them shut.

"My god," Abel whispered. Every single one of the floor tiles was busted and broken. The black quartz counters were cracked, while the wooden island had massive burn marks in it. Victor swallowed hard. Images of the Afghan desert spun in his mind as he tried to regain control of his emotions. Even as his breathing slowed from a pant to something a little more normal, he could still hear the screams of war in his head.

"Delylah!" Abel yelled. "Lala, where are you?"

 _Silence._ Victor closed his eyes as Abel fought to keep tears out of his. Lucius was the only calm one. Slowly, he surveyed the rest of the area as Abel and Victor listened for any signs of the girls. Breaking away from the group, he started slowly creeping down the side hallway that led to the garage. Both Abel and Victor were too nervous to pay Lucius any attention.

"C'mon baby," Victor mumbled. "Say something."

Abel felt his heart slamming against his chest. The all-to-familiar thud of its misfiring rhythm told Abel he was in trouble, but he ignored it. All that mattered was finding his sisters and finding his wife. He'd have time to pass out later, once he knew they were all safe. He breathed slowly, deliberately, so he wouldn't faint where he stood, but as his palms and forehead broke out in a cold sweat, he prayed for an answer.

"Delylah!" Victor called out into the silence. "Delylah Teller! Baby—please! Answer me!" The last words were strained as he and Abel took steps towards the hardwood stairs. Abel's eyes widened as he saw the splinters in the beautiful old wood. _Bulletholes._ Abel fought the urge to vomit as he followed Victor up the stairs. Victor looked over his shoulder with an anguished expression crossing his face. Abel nodded and pushed him forward.

At the top of the stairs, just as Victor set foot on the landing, Victor saw it. _Blood._ His hands trembled slightly, but he maintained his composure. Behind him, he heard Abel stifle a sob. Victor didn't dare turn back, because he knew once he saw Abel's tears, he'd probably dissolve into a puddle of them himself. Instead, he powered on, his boots sliding on the slippery floor, as he walked past the room he shared with Delylah. The door was wide open as he ducked in. Aside from the same kind of mess that lingered in the rest of the house, the room was completely empty. The same was true for Opie's room.

Only Jax and Tara's room remained, and that door was shut tight. Reaching out for the doorknob, Victor turned it.

"It's locked," Victor whispered. A momentary wave of relief washed over him, then it was quickly replaced with anxiety. Gripping the knob and shaking it hard, he suddenly grew fearful and began pounding on the door.

"Lala!" he screamed. It was the first time he'd ever used her nickname. "Baby, it's Victor! If you're in there, let me in, please! I have Abel and Lucius. You're scaring us—to—to—death." The last word was a hard, aching sob, and it was met with more silence. He pounded the wood once more. "Lala baby! If you don't open the door, I'm gonna knock it in!"

"C'mon, Sister!" Abel yelled. "Open the goddamned door—please! You're safe, I swear it!"

 _Silence._ It was mocking and savage. Victor turned and stared at his brother-in-law, silently seeking permission to bust down the door. With a slight nod from Abel's teary face, Victor handed the Ruger to his brother-in-law and readied himself to knock the heavy oak door off its hinges. Before he could finish, they heard it. Their eyes meeting with a heady dose of relief, Victor stopped. _The doorknob was turning._ Victor, ever the officer and the soldier, grabbed the gun from Abel's hands and raised it. _Just in case._

With an achingly slow speed, the door cracked open. It wasn't Delylah that flashed in the small opening.

"Opie?" Abel stammered. She nodded. "Honey, open the door. You're safe. No one is gonna hurt you." His little ginger haired sister looked lightyears away from eighteen as she carefully swung the door open. With a cry of relief, the men stumbled into the room. Abel grabbed Opie and pulled her close.

"You okay?" he asked. Unable to really speak, the ginger haired Teller nodded. She could feel Abel's offbeat heart smack against her, and her own heart sped with worry. She pulled away from him and stared for a moment, brushing a lock of blonde hair from his face. Her gray eyes were concerned as Abel grew paler.

"Victor!" Delylah cried out. Victor's eyes searched the room and found Delylah immediately. Positioned by the bed, the dark haired twin stood slowly. Unable to help himself, Victor pushed past Abel and Opie and ran to her. Shaking and utterly terrified, Delylah reached out to him. Victor folded his beloved in a tight embrace, kissing her forehead as he did so. For a moment, they stayed locked together, relieved to be in one another's arms.

"Where's Lucius?" Opie croaked as she broke from Abel's hold.

"I dunno," Abel said. It was the first time he noticed Lucius was missing, but as he scanned the room, he noticed another absence. "Where is Hannah?"

"Abel, I—" Delylah began, then stopped. She pulled away from Victor and carefully walked to her brother. "I thought you—I thought you heard me. You heard me, right? Did you call Mama? She knows. I called after we got disconnected-"

"I raced straight here, Lala," Abel explained. "What does she know?" Abel was genuinely confused. As he looked at Victor, he saw that Hannah's brother was equally perplexed. As a strange quiet fell amongst them, the door creaked open.

"Opie!" Lucius stood in the doorway. Opie rushed past her brother and stumbled into Lucius' half open arms. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her and swayed back and forth in an effort to comfort her.

"Did you see Hannah out there?" Abel started walking towards the door. "She's not in here. Lala, do you know where she is? Is she hiding somewhere?"

"Abel, I don't know how to—"

"Hannah!" Abel cried as he walked past Lucius and Opie and moved into the hallway. Delylah and Opie followed closely, with Lucius and Victor trailing behind. In the distance, sirens blared. Delylah's stomach dropped as she heard them. "Hannah!"

"Abel, stop!" Delylah was first in the hallway, and she saw him start down the steps.

"I have to find her!" he cried. He sped down the staircase at breakneck speed. "Hannah, baby, where are you?" He stopped for a moment and looked around, unsure of where to begin his search. "Hannah!"

"She's gone, Abel!" Delylah yelled. Abel stopped cold. Looking up at her from below, his blue eyes were incredulous as he grew stark white. Ophelia saw the change in his pallor and began rushing towards him. Her feet seemed to glide over the stairs as she ran to her brother. Lucius didn't follow her; he just watched as Victor and Delylah followed Ophelia's lead.

"Abel, they took her," Opie softly said. "They left a note and everything."

"Liar!" Abel's scream reverberated throughout the house. Without hesitation, he began racing through the house, searching for his wife. "Hannah-Belle!" He used his nickname for her, and Delylah's heart incinerated within the confines of her ribs. She looked at Victor, seeking his help, an intervention, but she was met with a torrent of uncomprehending tears falling down her lover's face. Reality slammed into her. _She was Victor's sister long before she was Abel's wife._ She laced her fingers between his and was shocked to find him uncontrollably shaking. She could tell that, unlike Abel, Victor believed her, but Delylah also saw the fire of disbelief waging war within his soul.

Unable to take his rushing about the house, Delylah began following her brother. "Abel! Listen to me! Please!" Abel stopped. His mouth was a tight, hard line as his nostrils flared and his chest swelled. His anger should have flooded his face with color, but he grew paler as he stood in front of Delylah.

"She's gone, Abel." Delylah's blue eyes, eyes so like his own, bore into his. They begged for him to see the truth, but he still refused to believe it.

"How?" Abel countered. "How is she gone, and you're still here?"

"They got to her when we were gone," Ophelia stated, and Delylah cringed. She felt her brother stiffen beneath her grasp.

"Gone?" The word was a snarl as his eyes burned anew with a deep, unbridled anger.

"We just ran to the store for a minute,"Delylah began explaining. "She told us to go. She was still getting over that bug she had after the wedding-"

"It's no bug," Abel growled. Delylah continued, oblivious to her brother's words.

"She wanted to rest," Delylah whispered. "She told us to go—"

"And you fucking listened?" Abel yelled. "Goddamn it, Delylah, I thought you had a brain!"

"Hey!" Victor yelled. "Don't talk to her like that, Abel!"

"Fuck you! It's not your goddamned wife on the line, Victor!"

"It _is_ my sister, Abel!" Victor retorted as he moved closer. "Hannah is my family too, goddamn it!"

The sirens were even closer now. They squealed with urgency as they neared Jax and Tara's house. For a moment, Victor and Abel stood toe to toe, both equally angry and both equally scared.

"She may be your sister," Abel whispered. "But she is my wife and the _mother of my child_." Understanding dawned in Victor's eyes and his lips quivered.

"Hannah's-pregnant?" Victor questioned. With a heartbreaking stare, Abel nodded.

"Almost ten weeks," Abel murmured. Victor shook his head. _A baby. She's having a baby._ Guilt anew washed over him. _Dad was right. I am worthless. I should have never left you._ Victor stared at Abel, unable to comprehend the depth of the younger man's pain. His eyes rested on Delylah for a moment. They'd only been together for a couple of weeks; Hannah and Abel had been together for seven years. _They are having a baby._ Victor slid his hand over his face, frustrated.

"I can't lose her," Abel said. His voice quaked as he continued. "She is my home. If I lose her—"

"Abel?" Ophelia's voice rose over her brother's. Before she could stop it, she saw Abel's face lose all color. Before anyone else had time to react, Abel fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Within seconds, his movement stopped. Victor knelt by him to check for a pulse.

"No pulse," he said. He shook his head. "Goddamnit, Abel."

Victor flipped his brother-in-law over and began compressions. Taking his cue, Delylah kneeled by her brother.

"When I tell you to, breathe into his mouth," Victor instructed. Delylah nodded. The ambulance sirens filled the room as the techs pulled in the driveway. "Breathe."

Delylah complied. As the first responders stormed in, they muscled their way through the small crowd until they reached Abel.

"We'll take over from here," one of them said to Victor. Tired from his efforts, he stepped aside and watched as the EMTs did their magic. Pulling a defibrillator from their healthcare arsenal, they attached it to Abel's chest. With a rushed _Clear,_ they shocked Abel. _Nothing._ They waited, then tried again. Victor readied himself for another flatline, but to his surprise, the machine beeped once, then twice. _Thank God,_ Victor said to himself.

As they watched helplessly, Delylah, Ophelia, and Victor followed Abel's gurney as they loaded it onto the awaiting van. As Opie looked around, she noticed Lucius missing. _Where could he be?_ Normally, she'd question it, but now, with Abel strapped to a gurney, she didn't think it mattered. _Maybe he's freaking out. Maybe Lucius is not okay in crisis._ A thousand possibilities raced through her mind as she followed Abel into the ambulance.

"We'll follow you!" Delylah called. Ophelia nodded as the EMTs prepared to leave. They carefully shut the ambulance doors, tapped the side of the van, and were off.

"Lucius!" Delylah yelled. "Where are you? Are you okay?" Lucius didn't have time to answer. A huge noise filled the space. Following the first responders, a small swarm of police officers entered the house. Taken aback, Delylah began to cry. Victor pulled her to him and allowed the numbness to set in.

 _It's done._ The words were bold as Lucius stood alone, texting, in the garage.

 _Good_ was the response. Nothing more, nothing less. Details weren't welcomed in print. A simple yes or no was plenty. After reading it, Lucius phone back into his pocket and turned to go into the insanity that awaited. The first step had gone off without a hitch, and in the weeks that were to follow, Lucius knew that his help was instrumental in reaching a common goal: By summer's end, there wouldn't be a Teller left standing, and Lucius would do everything possible to make it happen, or he would die trying.


	22. Chapter 22

"And I thought I drive like I have a death wish," Will shakily whispered as Thomas whipped his convertible around Silver Spring's mountainous curves. Thomas wanted to laugh, but there was a steely determination that rested within him. Since Jax and Tara's return to California, Thomas and Will tried to settle back into some semblance of a routine, but Tara's late night phone call shattered any chance of regrouping. He could still hear his mother's tears.

Thomas had been lying in bed, curled next to Will's ever-warm caramel skin. Thomas bolted upright when he heard Tara crying, but he felt his lover's hand tracing the long, lean line of his back. His mind whirled with Tara's urgent demands, but Will always brought comfort. He was good for that. In the wake of all the secrets and lies he'd learned since Abel's wedding, it was the only thing Thomas could truly count on.

"Thomas, you need to get home," she'd cried. "You're closer than we are. You can help the girls. Abel—no one is really telling me how he's doing. I need you to lay eyes on him, tell me how he _really_ is."

Part of him wanted to rail against Tara; after all, he'd had precious little time to process the gravity of his family's truth. For once, a calmer and steadier head prevailed. Thomas realized that this wasn't about him. It was about what he could do for his family. No matter what Jax and Tara had done, they'd obviously brought him up with compassion and love. That's what made Thomas pack his bags and flee South Carolina for the familiar hilly, green landscape that was Silver Spring, North Carolina.

Thomas' eyes darted quickly to Will. He'd been up the mountain with Will, for Abel's wedding, but he'd never quite had the bravery to bring him home—until now. Now, as Thomas stared ahead at the virtually unchanged landscape, he worried about what his partner would think of the tiny, time-warp town. Will's beautiful face was expressionless as they drove slowly through. Aviator sunglasses shaded the majority of Will's face, but if Thomas could see through the mirrored lenses, he'd see a strange mix of relief and wonder in his lover's eyes. He was grateful for Thomas' forced reduction in speed, but he marveled at how picturesque the little town was.

"It's Mayberry," Will whispered with a smile. It was true. Silver Spring, with its 10,724 person population, sat at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and Will could already tell change was not something that was favored. Everywhere he looked, massive, beautifully sloped hills surrounded him, enveloping him in lush greenery. He felt incredibly small and almost insignificant as he took everything in. _It makes sense,_ he thought. _Witness Protection knew what they were doing when they chose this place. No one would find them here._

A shiver raced up his spine as he remembered the dead biker that had started this madness. Will Latrie had only seen one other body, and that was his grandmother's. He clenched his jaw as memories of Bette Jade Latrie assailed his soul. He could still see her stunning green eyes and her wide, brilliant smile. She was a gorgeous woman, even in her later years. She was a constant source of laughter and music and life—and that what made her death so hard to endure.

He remembered the day in vivid color. It was a blazing hot day, and the sun beat down on their majestic two-story home. The Reconstruction-era, white-columned confection was the epitome of Southern elegance and privilege. Had it been a century earlier, Will knew both he and his grandmother would have been servants in the stunning home. The daughter of Caucasian entrepernuer Emmett Latrie and African-American attorney Caroline St. Charles, Grandmere never shied away from both sides of her heritage, both black and white.

He still remembered the smell of her attar of rose perfume, just as he remembered tiptoeing into Grandmere Bette's front parlor that sweltering August morning. Bette always woke before Will, but he knew that, once awake and dressed, he'd join her in that parlor for rich, black coffee and biscuits. That morning had been like any other, until Will had rounded the corner of the couch.

"Grandmere?" A month shy of eighteen, Will had remained very sheltered. He loved Bette, and he'd been grateful for her taking him in and loving him after his parents' passing. Turning the bend of the couch, he gasped. Her eyes were lifeless and bulging. Her mouth gaped open, and her beautiful, graceful hands hung limply by her sides, fingers curled upward.

Will jumped; his body jolted him back to reality. He shivered as visions of Chibs and Grandmere Bette unraveled in his head. Two dead bodies, so different, yet so similar—both of their untimely passings resulted in massive change. _I guess that's what the Grim Reaper does,_ Will thought cryptically.

"You okay?" Thomas asked. Will smiled brilliantly, grateful that his eyes were hidden. Instead of dredging up old ghosts, he focused on the quaint town square. He watched as people drove up and down the main strip. No one looked harried or tired. Everyone seemed to be fairly happy. It seemed like a strange, alternate universe.

"I can't believe this is where you grew up," Will breathed.

"Me either," Thomas quipped. Raising his hand and pointing in the distance, Thomas smiled lightly.

"That's my dad's shop," Thomas said solemnly. "The best body shop and garage in town."

Will watched as Thomas' blue eyes faded into sadness. As he laid his hand down on the gearshift, Will covered Thomas' hand with his own. Thomas swallowed the lump that raised in his throat. He was grateful beyond measure for the man by his side.

"Love you, Will," he murmured.

"I love you," Will returned. As they left the main part of town, the road twisted and turned more. Will's hand didn't leave Thomas' as they neared the house. Even as Thomas changed gears, Will held on. For a moment, Thomas blew the convertible wide open, careening down the middle-of-nowhere road. Will knew they were nearing when Thomas' speed dramatically slowed. As they turned into the gravel driveway, Thomas was shocked to see the police still present. Cop cars lined their long, gravel driveway. It was a complete and total opposite of the serene small town they'd just left. Thomas slowed to an almost crawl as one of the officers stopped him.

"Luke," the sheriff sadly drawled. Thomas blinked for a moment, confused by the name he'd gone by for the last almost twenty-two years. _He has no idea,_ Thomas marveled. _Of course they don't. Mom and Dad went to California from Abel's wedding._ For some reason, it didn't even occur to him that Silver Spring _didn't_ know the truth, even though the memories from Abel's wedding reminded him it was true.

"Jack Petty," Thomas said amicably. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here."

The short and stout officer stared at him, his dark eyes were unfathomable. "I wish it would be under different circumstances, Luke." His face was humble and grief-stricken.

"I know, Jack," Thomas said.

"How's your mom? Lucius told Eric and Elizabeth are flying back from their getaway."

Again, Thomas blinked. It shocked him to hear his parents' old names. It amazed him just as much that he'd grown accustomed to _Thomas_ so quickly.

"Yeah," Thomas said quietly. "Is everyone still inside?"

Jack Petty blinked, and his thin lips pursed in confusion. "Did no one call you?"

"Actually, no," Thomas answered. "I mean, Mama called me, but that was hours ago. She and Pop are waiting on a flight back. She told me to get here to help." A low whistle escaped Jack's mouth. "What's wrong?"

"It's your brother—" Jack started. "When he found that the home had been invaded, and Hannah was gone, he collapsed. His heart stopped." Thomas sobbed, then stifled it, allowing the officer to finish. "They got it beating again—but he's at the hospital. Your sisters are with him now."

"Does my mother know? My father?" Thomas' breathing was jagged and rough as he stared out. The only house he'd remembered from his childhood was surrounded by cops. He could see the kicked in door and the blood stained stairs. He didn't know what was more disturbing, the blood or the truth about Abel.

"I don't know, honestly," Jack answered. His eyes drifted over to Will, then back to Thomas. "All I know is that he's at Valley Memorial."

"Valley?" Thomas croaked. That hospital was two counties over, and Silver Spring residents only travelled to Valley Memorial Hospital when they were in serious condition. Thomas swallowed hard and closed his eyes. His fingers were white as they gripped the steering wheel.

"Yeah, man." Jack's voice was gravelly as he eyed at Will again. "Valley's far. Do you need help driving?"

"I got it," Will stated firmly. Gripping the door handle, he stepped out of the car. A dazed and completely dumbstruck Thomas mirrored Will's movements. Jack watched, equally confused. He knew something was different about the kid he'd known forever, he just couldn't place _what_ was different. As the men switched places, Jack stepped back, knowing what was about to happen.

Will cranked the convertible to life and looked at somberly looked at Thomas.

"Just tell me where to go, love," he said low. Thomas stared ahead at the house, and Will felt the ghosts that surrounded them both. As Thomas blankly nodded, Will pushed the car into drive and turned around, leaving the demons and the past behind them.

#########################################################################

"What do you mean, he's in a coma?" Delylah's voice was haggard and tired as she stared at the diminutive doctor before her. There was a good eight inches separating the women, but the stare that radiated from the spritely beauty didn't make Delylah feel like she had any leeway.

"Your brother has endured a myocardial infarction—a heart attack," the doctor said calmly. The stood outside Valley Memorial's Cardiac ICU. Delylah stared at her badge. _Maya Parker, MD, FACC, FSCAI._ She looked far too young to have so many letters following her name. With long, wavy burgundy hair and dark brown eyes, and slender, tiny frame, she looked like college kid than cardiologist, but the emergency room doctor spoke highly of her, so she had to be good.

"He has a defect. It was caused by the hole in his heart." Ophelia said carefully. She stood on Delylah's right, and Victor stood on her left. Somehow, she felt stronger with them by her side. Lucius had gone completely MIA since everything had gone down. Both Delylah and Victor had searched high and low for him, and he had all but disappeared. Everything within her wanted to call non-stop, to search for him and find him, but Abel was more important than a boy that would run when things were difficult.

"Yes," Maya Parker said thoughtfully. "Yes, your brother has an atrial septal defect. It's a hole in the wall between the two upper chambers of his heart. It appears that, as he's aged, the hole has enlarged. His lungs are now working overtime to make up for the problems his defect has caused. As a result of those issues, another complication has reared its ugly head, and he now has an atrial septal aneurysm. It's a clot in his atrium. He needs surgery, and even then, it may not completely fix it. He could bleed out. He could die on the table."

Victor's teeth clenched as he listed to the cardiologist. In the midst of all the insanity, he'd attempted to call Jax and Tara. When he was met with voicemail after voicemail, he knew that they'd already made it into the air. That meant that no one would meet them after they landed. He left message after message, and as Dr. Parker talked about Abel's surgery, he didn't know what the hell to do.

"I don't give a damn what you were _told,_ " an infuriated voice echoed through the corridor. Victor closed his eyes, and unable to help himself, he smiled. _Thomas. I knew you'd come through._ He looked over Delylah's head. Thomas charged forward, oblivious to the security guard that stood by the elevators. It was the guard's job to ensure only authorized people head towards the ICU entrance.

Ophelia had already began to run over to him. Victor's eyes rested on Thomas and Will. Thomas was bleary eyed as Will wrapped a protective arm around Thomas shoulder. Ophelia ran head-on into her older brother's arms, oblivious to the scene unraveling around them.

Thomas, fresh off a break-neck hour-and-half-drive across two counties, gingerly held his sister. Will carefully pulled away from Thomas and allowed him to have the family moment. As Ophelia and Thomas walked cautiously towards the doctor, who still stood by a surprised Delylah and Victor.

"How-?" Delylah whispered. Thomas didn't let her finish.

"Mom called me," Thomas explained, cutting her off. His eyes turned to Dr. Parker. "And you are-?"

"Dr. Maya Parker," the doctor stated, holding her hand out to him. Thomas took it and shook it efficiently. "I'm Adam's cardiologist."

Thomas wasn't surprised by the hospital using the Witness Protection name any more than he was surprised by Jack still calling him _Luke._ After everything that had happened, the reality of who they were was something they'd quickly grown accustomed to. The rest of their world would have to eventually catch up. He wondered if the girls had the presence of mind to use the WItSec names. Looking at their haunted faces, he doubted it.

"Luke Morgan," he returned carefully. He glanced at the doctor's face, quickly assessing her. "

Are you old enough to practice medicine?"

A sharp elbow to the ribs told him he'd asked the wrong question. An angry stare at Ophelia showed that he'd felt it, but that was the only indication. Eighteen years with fiery twin sisters taught him how to take a punch to the gut—or a shot to the ribs.

"I'm old enough to be your teenaged mother," she replied with a straight face. Her dark eyes blazed with fury, but she kept it hidden well. Thomas raised an eyebrow. If the situation hadn't been so dire with Abel, he would have continued the banter. Still, she didn't look a day over twenty-five, so he was impressed with the fact that she was in her mid-thirties and looked amazing.

"So what's going on with my brother?" Thomas drawled.

"He needs surgery," Dr. Parker began anew, skipping over the stuff she realized Thomas knew. "Basically, the hole in his heart is getting bigger, and it's hurting his lungs. We will attempt to close the hole and regain balance in the lungs."

"When is this happening?" Thomas asked. Will reached out and grabbed his hand. Thomas squeezed it, grateful for the connection.

"As soon as we can get a surgical suite," Dr. Parker replied. "I would say in the next hour or so. If you haven't called your parents, you should."

"I called them on the way here," Thomas said softly. "They were in California when this happened. They just landed in Greensboro as we were pulling into the parking lot. They're about thirty minutes away now. They're coming straight here."

"You called them?" Victor said, surprised. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone. _Four calls from Tara. Five from Jax._ Victor closed his eyes. He hadn't even realized he put his phone on silent. They'd been calling for the last hour, at least. Guilt seeped into the soldier's veins as he tucked the phone back in his jeans.

"Yeah," Thomas answered with a tinge of venom. "Mom said she'd tried to call you. Dad too."

"Yeah," Victor replied with pure guilt. "I just saw that."

"Do you have questions for me?" Dr. Parker asked. Before any of the Teller kids could respond, the nearby elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Thomas, Ophelia, and Delylah turned in that direction. Victor's head followed. It was as if they were all possessed—or even programmed—to look that way. It was an almost magnetic pull that pulled them that way. More than a little annoyed, Dr. Parker turned that way as well. She had to see what the hell made her patient's family stop mid-conversation and stare into the distance. What she saw completely astounded her.

"What the fuck?" Thomas heard the words drop from his mouth before he could stop them. His eyes widened at the sight before them. A black leather clad biker stepped from the elevator. At his side was a tall, large-bosomed, obviously transgender woman stood by his side. Thomas immediately recognized Althea. Dressed in all black, her hair severely tied back in a tight bun, her eyes were shadowed and sad. Between the strangers and Althea stood Jax and Tara. Without even glancing at the guard, Tara charged forward with Jax hot on her heels.

"Oh my God," Thomas heard someone whisper. Thomas glanced just beyond Jax. The silver-haired biker stared openly at them. The unidentified woman by his side was taken aback by what she saw; that much was clear. Still, even through the astonished gaze, the woman's eyes filled with happy tears. Thomas felt a familiar pull in his gut; it was a pull he couldn't explain. He just felt as if he'd known the old man his entire life.

"My babies," Tara whispered brokenly. Without hesitation, she rushed towards them all, and once she reached them, she attempted to pull them all into a huge hug.

"Ahem," Dr. Parker cleared her throat. She was used to seeing brokenhearted family members; after all, as a cardiologist, it came with the territory; however, it was a rarity to be interrupted not once, but twice by what seemed to be dramatic, almost ostentatious entrances.

"Hello." Tara turned to face the doctor. The aggravation was palpable. _Who the fuck is she to interrupt?_ Tara inwardly seethed.

"Mom," Thomas jumped in before Tara could introduce herself. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Tara was logical. Now, with her nerves at their breaking point, Thomas worried that she'd forget and introduce herself as Tara, not Elizabeth. "This Dr. Parker, _Adam's_ cardiologist. Dr. Parker, this is my mother, _Elizabeth Morgan_."

"This is my husband, Eric." Tara didn't miss a beat, and Thomas exhaled in relief. "What's going on?"

Dr. Parker resisted the urge to roll her eyes and bit back her frustration. _This is the third goddamned time I've explained this,_ she thought. She glanced in the direction of the elevators, waiting for another surprise to waltz out.

"He needs surgery," Dr. Parker began. "He has an atrial septal aneurysm that has caused a heart attack, and there is pressure on his lungs. We have to operate to fix it." Tara's brow furrowed.

"Are you sure?" Tara asked. Her mind was blown. She glanced at Jax, who now shook and was on the verge of tears. Then Venus, Tig, and Athea came into view. It was a horrible addition to their ever-mounting problems.

"I wouldn't be considering surgery if I didn't," Dr. Parker replied with a little more force than she'd intended.

"How big is the aneurysm?" Tara asked. No one else spoke.

"Two centimeters." Dr. Parker crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stared at Tara. A twinge of pity soared through the doctor, but it was more than annoying to be shaken down by a patient.

"It's a big problem, but that's not the only problem," Tara replied with a self-assured tone.

"Ma'am, we did a MRI and a CT. We saw nothing additional."

"Well, let me take a look at it—"

"You won't understand it," Dr. Parker said quietly. "It's very technical." Tara swallowed hard. Her frustration turned into outright anger. For the longest time, she'd kept her past a secret. Internally, she was furious.

"How the fuck do you know that, _Dr. Parker_?" Tara exploded. "How do you know I wouldn't understand it?"

"Look, I didn't mean to offend you—"

"Well, you did," Tara bit back. Her hazel eyes were alive with a mix of sadness and fury and hate.

"It's just hard for laymen to understand—"

"I'm not a goddamned layman, Dr. Parker." Tara leaned closer to her. Dr. Parker raised her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Parker countered. She was curious as to what Tara would say.

"What she means, doc, is that she knows all this medical shit," Jax finally quipped. "She probably knows it better than you. My son wouldn't be alive it wasn't for her."

"Babe, please-" Tara pleaded, but Jax continued.

"You see, _Dr. Parker_ ," Jax continued with disdain, "He was a preemie. With the hole in his heart, it only further complicated things. When she got to the hospital, my ex, a junkie heroin addict, was hemorrhaging, and they did an emergency c-section."

"Look, sir—" Dr. Parker began. He heard Ophelia whisper for him to stop, but he continued.

"No, you look," Jax interrupted him again. "My wife stepped in and saved his life. She repaired the hole in his heart. She sewed that kid back together and made him whole again, and you want to question her? Fuck you." The last two words were snarled.

As his tirade ended, Jax looked around at the kids, at Tara, at the doctor. With the exception of Dr. Parker, various stages of shock were etched on everyone's faces. _Oh God, I just fucked up._

"Mom, you-? Thomas began. She nodded. Unsure of how to answer questions, she explained It the best she could.

"It's true," Tara said. "I was once Neonatal Cardiac Surgeon. Everything your father said is true. Your father was married before me. His ex-wife's name was Wendy. She was a heroin addict. When she was carrying Ab—I mean, Adam-she almost lost him."

The doctor blinked, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Can we see our son now?" Jax asked. The disdain he had for Dr. Parker was instantaneous.

"Of course," the doctor said. "But only two at a time." Jax flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw, but he said nothing. The guard must've been listening. The doors opened to ICU, and Jax and Tara disappeared. Dr. Parker followed. As the doors shut behind them, Tara knew the turmoil that lived outside the doors. _Now they know,_ Tara thought sadly. _They know I'm not Abel's mom. I can't explain it all to them now. Abel is my concern. Hannah needs to be found._

Outside the ICU stood Thomas, Delylah, and Ophelia. Will, Tig, Venus, Althea, and Victor stood around, not sure of what to say. Another bomb had been dropped on Jax and Tara's kids, and they had no idea what to do. As they stood trying to comprehend the truth, each one of them wondered what was going to happen next. Would there be more secrets and revelations? None of them were certain, but it didn't change anything. Abel was still sick, Hannah was missing, and not a single one them could predict what disaster would show up next.


	23. Chapter 23

"Get up."

The voice was low and strange. Hannah's eyes flickered open for a moment, then closed again. Exhaustion blanketed her brain, leaving her unable to move.

"Get up, Hannah." This time, the demand coincided with a rough shake. Her eyes opened, but she couldn't focus. Everything was blurry and foggy. She blinked her eyes over and over again, trying regain some semblance of equilibrium. She failed miserably. Her head throbbed, and her stomach roiled with nausea. As her eyes started to focus, shock flooded her body.

"Lucius," she whispered. She could hear her heart slamming in her ears. She watched as his green eyes scanned her face and released her hair. A smile of satisfaction played on his beautiful mouth. He licked his lips and stepped back.

"Don't be scared," he grinned. "I'm under strict orders not to hurt you—unless it's necessary, of course."

Hannah sat up slowly, surprised to find that she was in a huge bed. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she saw a beautiful room with high, white ceilings, but it was dark. Not one glimmer of light peeked through the tightly drawn curtains. Hannah couldn't tell if it was day or night. In the corner sat a small mahogany table with matching chairs, and just past that was a door that Hannah was sure led to a bathroom. As her eyes darted from wall to wall, and she noticed a couple of small book shelves, filled with books. As her eyes focused back on Lucius, her soul was filled with disgust.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked. She couldn't remember anything. The last thing she'd remembered was sleeping in Jax and Tara's room. She couldn't recall anything else.

"You don't remember anything?" Lucius asked. He was intrigued. He genuinely wondered how they'd managed to do it. After all, he'd been at the shop with Abel and Victor when they took her. Hannah shook her head in the negative, and Lucius shrugged.

"I wasn't told much," Lucius replied. "All I was told is that they had you, and you were safe."

"Who are _they_?" Hannah questioned.

"Don't worry about that right now."

"Why wouldn't I worry about that?" Hannah asked. "What the hell makes you think that I wouldn't question it? What the hell are you involved with, Lucius? What the fuck are you doing?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Lucius said cryptically. Hannah gritted her teeth in frustration. Everything still had a haze around it, and the nausea that plagued her during the first trimester still lingered. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and let the wave of sickness pass.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were pregnant?" Lucius queried.

"How did you know?" Hannah asked.

"You talk in your sleep," Lucius said. "When they brought you here, you were crying about your baby. You were begging for your baby to be safe. Between that and your behavior since the wedding-hiding out in your room, sleeping all day, being sick as hell—it was easy to put together."

"Is that why you were given orders to _not_ hurt me?" Hannah asked. Lucius shrugged.

"You don't listen," he said calmly. "I was given orders to not hurt you—unless it was necessary." Hannah flinched, but he ignored it. "Still, that doesn't tell me why you didn't make your little secret known."

"It was no one's fucking business," Hannah attacked. "The most important people knew: Abel, Jax, and Tara. We didn't plan on telling anyone else until after twelve weeks, when we know the baby was okay."

"And when was that going to be?" Lucius' questions came fast and furious, and even though Hannah didn't want to answer him, deep down she already knew that this man was her contact with the outside world. She had no choice but to answer him.

"Another week," she responded, her lip quivering slightly. "I was almost thirteen weeks exactly on the morning this all went down. How long have I been out?"

"Not that long," Lucius' answer was purposefully vague. He had to maintain some kind of control. By distorting her days and nights, he'd be at a perpetual advantage.

"Do you know what they gave me to knock me out?" A flicker of remorse glimmered in Lucius' eyes, but it was quickly extinguished. There was a piece of him that felt bad for the beautiful pregnant girl before him. Luckily, that piece could be shoved down and ignored at will.

"I don't," Lucius stated. Hannah's silvery eyes were worried as she stared at him.

"So what happens now?" she asked. "I mean, why am I here? How do I get out?"

"You don't," Lucius explained. "This really isn't about you at all—you're just a pawn in the game. Unfortunately, your baby is too."

"But why?" Hannah didn't understand. She didn't know why any of this was happening. She hadn't hurt anyone. She'd stayed to herself and kept her focus on Abel and their baby. In her mind, there was no need to pay attention to anything else.

"You have value," Lucius told her. "You are Jax Teller's daughter-in-law. The man you know now has not always been kind and good. He and his goddamned biker club fucked up many lives and made a shit-ton of enemies. It doesn't matter that you and Abel haven't done anything. You are loved by Jax Teller. You are his family. That makes you valuable. Now that you're carrying his grandchild, you went from being important to being the fucking chosen one."

Hannah's breath caught with Lucius' revelation. _I am valuable._ She felt like chattel to be bought and sold at auction. The thought nauseated her more than her unborn baby did. She met Lucius' eyes, and she immediately felt uncomfortable under his gaze. He stared at her differently now. Gone was the boy that earnestly dated Ophelia, and in his place was a wolfish gaze and a haughty mouth.

"How did you get involved in all this Lucius?" It was a genuine question. Hannah wanted to know what changed, what happened, but as she wracked her brain for answers, a horrifying thought enveloped her: _What if this was his plan all along?_ Her heart began to pound harder. _Poor Opie. She has no idea. She has no clue what this bastard is doing._ She sobered. _None of us did._

"Don't worry about that," Lucius said smoothly. He walked across the room and leaned against one of the bookshelves. "What you need to worry about is taking care of yourself while you're our guest."

"Your _guest_?" Hannah was shocked. Lucius made it sound like she was staying a luxurious hotel, and as Hannah glanced incredulously around the room, she realized it wasn't an untrue statement. Her surroundings were beautiful. She was sitting upon opulent, sage and cream satin brocade bedding. All the furniture was dark, rich mahogany. As she stood, she felt the thick Oriental carpet beneath her bare feet. It felt strange against her skin as she walked across the room.

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked, but he didn't move. He just watched as she went to the windows. Without a word, Hannah grabbed the window coverings and yanked them open. To her shock and dismay, the windows were completely bricked over. Hannah's eyes flew wide. She turned and met Lucius' eyes, then she turned back and pulled the curtains on each one of the windows, only to find more of the same. By the last window, she felt a massive lump form in her throat. As she turned to meet Lucius' stare, she dissolved into a puddle of tears. Lucius walked across the room and stood mere centimeters from her. She could smell the scent of his cologne. It, like everything else had lately, made her want to retch. She looked down at her feet. Hannah didn't want to look at him.

Carefully, Lucius tucked his index finger beneath her chin, and he lifted her face upward. She refused to look at him. Her eyes were closed.

"Hannah, you're stuck here," Lucius said softly. His voice sounded almost sympathetic. "You may want to make it as pleasant as you can." Hannah pursed her lips and closed her eyes tighter. Lucius chuckled lightly, and then, unable to help himself, he traced his knuckles across her cheek. Hannah jumped back like she'd been scalded. Her eyes flew open, and Lucius dissolved into a deeper bout of laughter.

"Don't fucking touch me," Hannah threatened. She backed away from Lucius, but he advanced closer, a dark grin on his face. Hannah stopped when her back slammed against the blockaded windows. There was nowhere to go as Lucius advanced towards her. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Lucius came closer. His body was so close, the slight rounding of her belly grazed his flat abdomen.

"Oh, Hannah," he said calmly. "Let's keep this friendly, can't we? I mean, after all, we are practically related. Abel is your husband—and Ophelia—" He stopped and smiled. Hannah's skin crawled. "Well, let's just say I know her well. Biblically."

"You're sick," Hannah fumed. "I don't know how you managed to get me here or who made you do this, but if you think Abel won't find me, you're out of your fucking mind."

Lucius laughed. The sound was low and melodious. His green eyes sparked as he gazed down at her.

"I don't worry about dear old Abel," he said solemnly.

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"You're gorgeous when you're angry, Hannah," he said menacingly. "I've always thought so."

"Fuck you," Hannah snarled. Lucius chuckled deeply.

"Maybe that can be arranged too," he teased playfully, but Hannah felt her ire rise. Heat flooded her face as she gritted her teeth in frustration. With a playful stare, he pulled away and turned towards the door. "I'll be back with your food throughout the day. Get used to seeing me, darling. I'm all you have." As he sauntered away, Hannah watched as he grabbed a ring of keys from his pocket. Twisting the doorknob, Lucius opened the door.

"Wait!" Hannah yelled before he could swing the door open.

"Yes, Hannah?" he said coolly, unfazed.

"What happened to Abel?" Hannah asked. Her eyes were dark with worry.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lucius responded casually, feigning innocence.

"You said you wouldn't worry about Abel, Lucius," Hannah said quietly. "Did something happen?"

Lucius chewed thoughtfully on his lip. He was toying with her, and Hannah could tell he savored every single play in the cat and mouse game.

"Nothing of any consequence," Lucius stated. "I mean, it was just a small heart attack." A brilliantly evil smile spread across his handsome features as he watched Hannah's face crumble. She sank to the floor, weeping.

"What?" her voice broke. "Abel—he had a heart attack?" Lucius nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Is he okay? Do you know how he is?"

Lucius smiled, purposefully ignoring her question. Pure hate raged in her eyes as he opened the door. Typically, Hannah would try to look out that door; she'd try to gage her surroundings and find a means to escape. Now, devastated and heartbroken, her only thought was of Abel.

"I'll see you soon, Hannah-Belle." Hannah's eyes lit hot with unbridled fury.

"Only Abel can say that," she yelled. He laughed uproariously, enjoying her pain. Without a goodbye, the shut the door behind him, locking it soundly.

Assured that the door was soundly locked, Lucius walked down the corridor. He enjoyed this game; in fact, he could get used to it. He hoped that it would continue; there was a small part of him that wondered if Hannah would forget her husband, if given the chance.

"I'm one sick bastard," he said aloud.

As he neared the stairs, he didn't know what he enjoyed more; the thought of Hannah switching to his side, or the sound of Hannah's screams following him into the darkness. As peel after peel of sadness and heartbreak trailed into the corridor, he realized that, both prospects excited him. They excited him in ways that Hannah couldn't even begin to imagine.


	24. Chapter 24

Delylah Teller was exhausted. She was astounded to realize just how much of her mother she had in her. In the six days that had passed since Abel's surgery, both of them lingered by Abel's side. When Tara needed a break, Delylah stepped in and vice-versa. While her brother hovered between life and death, Delylah made sure he was never, ever alone.

She watched Abel now. He looked so peaceful. His blonde curls gleamed against the white, starched sheets. His skin was flushed with color. The only thing that was out of place and strange was the ventilator Abel was connected to. The hum of the machines had its own rhythm, and it almost lulled Delylah into a light slumber. She hadn't slept much since all of this happened. Even though the police had obtained all their evidence, and the house was no longer considered a crime scene, Delylah just couldn't go back there. The hospital was cold and sterile, but it held no memories, nor did it hold any terror.

"Hey baby," Victor's voice was a whisper amongst the machines. Delylah's eyelids flickered open, and she smiled when she saw him. It was strange, this new love she had. She'd never thought she could experience this kind of peace with a man. It was nice, but she knew that, like all good things, it was going to have to come to an end. Victor had already extended his leave from the police department, citing Hannah's disappearance as the reason, but Delylah wasn't sure how long that would last.

"Hey," she mouthed. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, and her mouth was full of cotton balls. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, but she was far from hungry. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She watched as Victor neared her; she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos, he looked amazing. His dark eyes were bright and alert, his face was smooth and clean-shaven. The only change she really saw was his hair. The fine Marine stubble he typically sported was growing out, and it intrigued Delylah. She wondered if his hair was curly or straight, if it was dark like Hannah's, or if it had the blonde highlights from Sarah.

 _Sarah._ She thought of Victor and Hannah's mother now. No one in the Teller family had seen Sarah or James since the wedding, but just an hour into Abel's surgery, the Sinclairs shocked everyone by arriving at the hospital. Jax, Tara, their kids, Victor and Will waited in the designated waiting area. Opie's head rested in her mother's lap, and she appeared to be napping. Jax stood at the window, looking out into the dark North Carolina night. Thomas and Will sat next to one another, whispering softly.

Tig and Venus sat across from Thomas and Will, and Althea stood near Jax. Delylah, Thomas, and Ophelia were still reeling from Tara's admission; she wasn't Abel's biological mother—some crazy crack whore junkie was. Delylah wondered how she never realized it. She never knew Tara wasn't Abel's mother. _I guess love is like that,_ she thought. _Love doesn't care if you're not the same blood._ The realization that Tara never seemed any different to Abel only made Delylah respect her mother more.

Victor was running a casual hand through her hair when the door opened. It was a rare moment of relaxation for her; she was nestled in the crook of Victor's arm, reveling in the sensation of Victor's gentle touch. The door slid open slowly, and Delylah didn't bother opening her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" It was Victor who spoke. His voice wasn't loud; in fact, it was a low, gravelly murmur. Delylah opened her eyes, shocked to see James and Sarah standing there. Both had looked like they had seen better days. James' eyes were swollen and red-rimmed from crying. He wore impeccably cut gray linen slacks, but they were wrinkled with wear. His untucked white polo appeared thrown on.

Sarah looked just as bad. She was dressed in a long, beautiful turquoise sun dress, but that's where the elegance ended. Delylah blinked for a moment. She was so unaccustomed to seeing Dr. Sinclair's wife not dolled up, but without the artifice of makeup, Sarah looked strange. It wasn't that she wasn't still beautiful; she was, but it was more vulnerable beauty. Gone was the polished, stunning woman from her brother's wedding, and in her place was a shell of the doctor's wife. Her blonde hair was loose and wavy; her olive skin was dusky, and her eyes were just as swollen as her husband's. Delylah didn't know what they knew, but she was too shocked to see them to think about any of that.

"We came to talk to you," James spoke quietly. Delylah felt Victor stiffen by her side. She removed herself from the crook of his arm, but she held fast to his hand. A reassuring squeeze from him was what she needed, but he was in no state to give it.

"Why?" Jax's voice cut through the silence. Delylah watched as her father walked slowly towards the pompous doctor. "You had no interest in this family when your daughter married into this—this _white trash clan_. So why are you here now?"

"She's gone," Sarah said simply. "The police came to our house to tell us the news. That's how we heard about Abel. We came to see if you wanted our help."

"Your help?" Jax laughed. Delylah saw his blue eyes flash, and she felt an odd mix of pride and fear. Barely a foot separated the two men. Delylah's eyes flicked to Tara, who stayed seated. Ophelia slept on, oblivious to the possible chaos that surrounded them. Ophelia was always able to compartmentalize her feelings, as long as she could fall headlong into sleep. Dreaming was her twin's therapy, and Delylah always envied Ophelia for that.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Tig didn't miss a beat. It was as if the last eighteen years never happened. He was on his feet and by Jax's side within seconds. Delylah was in awe. Since their arrival at the hospital, Tig, Venus, and Althea had tried to be respectful of Jax and Tara's children. They were almost like gargoyles; they watched and protected, but they said nothing—until now. For the first time, Delylah Teller wondered what her parents were really like before Witness Protection took over and changed everything.

"That's my father," Victor said coldly. "And the woman by his side is my mother."

"Oh, these are the assholes? Hannah's parents?" Tig whispered with a brutal, frigid grin. His ice blue eyes were emotionless as Tig scanned the couple up and down. Jax and Tara had given them the basic rundown of everything during their long flight home. Both Tig and Venus were heartbroken to hear of the Sinclairs' reaction to Jax and Tara's past, but they were even more heartbroken to hear how the doctor and his wife gave up on both Hannah and Victor. It made no sense. Delylah shivered as she watched the exchange.

"Yep, those are the assholes," Victor said. James glared at his son, but he remained silent. Jax watched as the typically dapper doctor realized he'd lost the upper hand. To say that he reveled in James' discomfort was a gross understatement. There was a part of Delylah that enjoyed the older man's pain as well.

"What the hell do you want?" Tig purred. As a rule, the old biker detested the holier-than-thou entitled rich, and that, mixed with the Sinclairs' obvious discomfort and sadness, satisfied Tig in an almost primal way. He was a lazy cat, licking his lips as he watched a mouse struggle in a mouse trap.

"You slumming?" James' voice was venomous as he turned his gaze back to Jax. "No wonder you wanted to turn Witness Protection." Tig gritted his teeth at that remark, but Jax's old friend didn't talk. He allowed James to dig his own grave.

"We want to apologize," Sarah nervously interjected, glaring at her husband. "We were wrong. Everything we said at the vineyard—the way we left—it was awful. We should've worked it out. We were just shocked by everything—"

"That's not an excuse." It was Tara's turn to speak. Delylah glanced at her mother. Tara didn't move at all. In fact, she was the epitome of calm as she continued to stroke Ophelia's hair.

"I know it's not," Sarah continued. "We handled everything all wrong. We should have stayed. We should have listened."

"Maybe if you had, Hannah would still be here," Victor said. "Maybe if you'd opened your minds instead of your mouths, Hannah would've had more protection."

"Where the hell were you?" True to form, James Sinclair couldn't stay quiet, nor could he stay humble. His eyes flashed as he stared at his son. "I mean, why weren't you there? Where was Abel? Where the fuck were you, Jax?" The accusatory tone grated on everyone's nerves, but Delylah felt a flame of anger flicker within her gut.

"Abel was working," she angrily chimed in. Her father's gaze was murderous as he stared at James. She didn't know where the words came from. She didn't normally insert herself into what she considered "adult issues," but she wasn't going to sit there and have that bastard place blame on her father and her lover. "Victor was helping my brother. We were trying to maintain a good cover. Trying to protect us all while a murderer runs loose, free do to do whatever the fuck he wants-which he obviously did with our Hannah."

Delylah watched as Thomas and Will looked admiringly on at her. The reassuring hand squeeze she'd longed for from Victor happened as she blushed. Tara offered a small smile to her daughter as her heart swelled with pride. _Tell em Lala,_ she thought.

"And I was in California, burying a man that had no business being murdered for something that he didn't have any part of." Jax said through gritted teeth as he glanced at Althea. She remained frozen in place as the conversation unfolded. The pain in her eyes was awful, and it took everything within Jax to not punch James in the face again.

"And that was more important that my daughter?" James was relentless. Delylah watched Tig's hands ball into fists as the conversation continued. Jax's lips almost disappeared as he smiled. There was no joy in her father's eyes, only contempt.

"If you were so concerned with your daughter, Dr. Sinclair, you wouldn't have disowned her the minute things weren't up to your ridiculous standards." Delylah couldn't help herself. She listened to the words that spewed from her mouth. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ _Are you fucking insane?_ When James Sinclair's eyes shifted in her direction, she felt her blood run cold. Shockingly, he remained silent.

"You're right," an immediately contrite Sarah said. "You all did the best you could." James opened his mouth to say something, but with a sad glance from his wife, he closed it again. "We are sorry for being selfish, but I am begging you to give us a chance. I want my daughter home. I want Abel to live. I want everything to go back to what it was before we learned the truth."

"That's impossible," Tara said quietly. "It will never go back to what it was. We are not the people you once knew. We're the people we've been destined to be. I don't know if you could ever accept that."

"We could try," Sarah said. Her tone was sincere, but it didn't change anything within Tara. She was almost devoid of emotion where the Sinclairs were concerned. Deep down, she knew that both Sarah and James were in the same agony she was in—the only difference was that she could reach out and touch Abel. The Sinclairs weren't that lucky. Six months ago, she would have ached like the Sinclairs ached. Now, there was nothing for James and Sarah.

She hurt for Hannah. Her insides were ripped asunder as she thought of the girl that had been a part of their lives since she was sixteen. There was no telling where Hannah was, whether she was alive, or whether she was dead. Hannah was just as much of a daughter to Tara as Delylah and Ophelia were. A small pull drifted into her chest as she thought of her daughter-in-law. _You have my grandbaby._ She closed her eyes and said a small prayer. _God, just please let her be okay. Just let Hannah and the baby be okay._

"You poor thing." The sound of Venus' voice filled the room. Tara's eyes flicked to Tig's wife, unsure of what to say. As Venus came closer, Tara held her breath. Her eyes locked with Thomas and Will's for a moment. They looked as if they were collectively holding their breaths. Anxiety plagued their beautiful faces, and even though neither man knew Venus well, Tara knew they feared Sarah and James'1` reaction to Venus Trager.

Silver Spring had never been a diverse town. Tara couldn't imagine that Dr. and Mrs. Sinclair would accept the transgender beauty, but as Venus' beautiful eyes filled with tears, Tara watched, transfixed. Venus now stood in front of Sarah. Tara marveled at Venus' huge, empathetic heart. She'd known Sarah for years, and after the brawl at the vineyard, there was sympathy, but there was still lingering anger.

Venus had none of that. She stood a good six inches over Sarah's tiny body. No one dared to breathe as they watched Venus cautiously smile. Tara watched as Jax's mouth dropped open; she saw Tig try to walk towards his wife, and she saw her husband's hand stop him. Thomas clutched Will's hand as they watched. Tara was immediately grateful that Opie slept on, peacefully lost in dreams as Delylah and Victor barely moved. Even Althea watched quietly as Venus reached out and grabbed Sarah's hands.

"You're going through hell," Venus said softly. "Now is not the time to badger you, no matter what happened. Your daughter is gone—she's pregnant—and you have no idea where she is. I can't even imagine not knowing where my kid was. We shouldn't be hurting you. We should be helping you. This is the time when family, as dysfunctional as it is, should come together. Not fall apart."

James Sinclair's eyes misted over as his mouth gaped open. Sarah began shaking. Instantly, Venus knew she'd spoken out of turn. She cast a fearful glance towards Tara, towards Jax, and finally towards Victor. She watched Hannah's brother close his eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came. Venus was speechless. She instantly knew she fucked up.

"Hannah's pregnant?" James' voice cracked as reality set in. He felt his breath leave his lungs. He gripped Sarah's shoulders, and he felt her trembling. Sarah cast her dark eyes up to stare at him, but the agony was too great. She burst into tears. Tara watched, unaffected. She didn't know how she could be so disconnected, especially now. Venus had announced Hannah's pregnancy inadvertently, and Tara couldn't help but feel a slight satisfaction at James and Sarah's pain. _How did this happen? How did I stop caring?_ She couldn't help but think of Gemma. _I won't be you. I can't do it._ As she looked at the Sinclairs, she could feel Gemma's hate-fueled presence surrounding her. It hadn't happened in so long; Tara had almost forgotten what the sensation was like. Shivers laced her skin as she realized there was a small part of her that missed it. Her gut churned in disgust.

"We found out before we went back to California," Jax spoke up. "Hannah and Abel told us before we left the vineyard."

"After we left?" Sarah croaked. Jax nodded. Tara said nothing; she kept stroking Ophelia's hair.

"I'm sorry, Jax," Venus' voice trembled as she spoke. "I shouldn't have said anything—"

"It's okay," James said abruptly. "We needed to know. And now that we do, we can help."

The room was silent. No one said anything; they all just stared at one another, waiting for the words to show up. It was an unearthly quiet that took over. When the door opened, it startled them all; they seemed to collectively jump as Dr. Parker walked in. Clad in sea green scrubs, the tiny doctor looked exhausted. Tara's eyes jumped to the clock on the wall. A lump rose in her throat. Six and a half hours had passed since Abel went to surgery. Tara knew the surgery should have taken four hours, tops.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mor—I mean-" Dr. Parker struggled with Jax and Tara's names. Her mind was reeling from the long surgery, and she still couldn't wrap her thoughts around Tara's past-life admission. James and Jax locked eyes. James said nothing; he looked to the doctor and kept his mouth shut. Dr. Parker looked at James and Sarah but didn't bother with niceties. She waited patiently as Tara divested herself from Ophelia's grasp. The younger Teller sat up sleepily, but she was instantly alert. Her large blue eyes focused intently on the physician. They all waited for her to speak.

"How is he?" Ophelia asked before anyone else got a chance. She stood carefully and walked over to Thomas and Will. She wedged herself between them, steeling herself for the news. Thomas wrapped an arm around her waist, and Will grasped her hand. When his dark eyes met hers, she automatically felt comforted. She didn't know Will very well, but Ophelia instinctively knew there was a sweet kindness about him she could implicitly trust.

"Yes, Dr. Parker," Tara all but whispered, "How is our son?"

Maya Parker sighed and cast her eyes downward. When she looked back up, Tara recognized the look in the cardiologist's eyes: fear. Tara moved closer to Jax and gripped his hand. She felt her husband's eyes on her, but she stared at Abel's doctor, ready for whatever news came.

"Abel has made it through surgery," Dr. Parker said. "We were able to relieve the pressure from the aneurysm, and we were successful and closing the hole in his heart, but there's -"

"No guarantee that this won't happen again," Tara finished. "The safety of this kind of closure was not able to demonstrate its superiority in preventing recurrence of other heart attacks."

Dr. Parker blinked, still shocked at the strange and beautiful woman standing before her. She wondered what stories Tara could tell, if given the opportunity.

"Indeed," the doctor agreed. "I worry that, with your son's specific defect, it is only a matter of time before this reoccurs." Tara nodded in understanding, but Jax looked confused. Images of Gemma now danced in his head. He thought of his little brother as well. _Tommy._ He remembered Gemma's long sliver of a scar, but it was Tommy's blue lips. If he concentrated, he could still hear the little boy's wheezes.

"So this is going to happen again?" Delylah asked carefully. She stood by Victor's side. Her blue eyes were wide with anxiety.

"It could," Dr. Parker stated. "But that is not my biggest worry."

"What is your biggest worry?" Tig asked, staring at the petite physician. She stared openly at the tall, silver-haired biker. She blinked rapidly as she took him in. Tig sat heavily by Venus' seat on the couch. The doctor's eyes lit on every face in the room: Althea still stood, completely quiet and barely breathing, by the windows. The Sinclairs stood alone in the corner. Thomas and Will held fast to Ophelia, and Victor followed suit with Delylah. Tara and Jax now clung loosely to one another as they waited for Maya Parker to deliver the facts.

"He is stable," she stated, ignoring Tig. "But he is in critical condition. While we had him open, he experienced another episode of cardiac arrest. We were, obviously, able to get him back and get him fixed. But he's not out of the woods. We have him in a medically induced coma—"

"To prevent additional infarctions and potential strokes and PEs," Tara finished once more.

"What are PEs?" Jax inquired.

"Pulmonary embolisms—blood clots in the lungs," James Sinclair now interjected. He cast a surprised glance in Tara's direction. _He has no idea who you really are,_ she thought as she confidently met his stare. She'd forgotten that she and Dr. Parker weren't the only physicians in the room. Tara nodded for Dr. Parker to continue.

"I am erring on the side of caution," she explained. "I feel that his health is too precarious to take the risk. As much as we doctors hate to admit it, sleep is sometimes the most natural and effective healer there is. If we do it this way, he'll be much better for it when he does wake."

Tara nodded once more as Dr. Parker's words sank into her brain. Tara knew the younger woman was right, and it solved a two-fold problem: The coma helped Abel heal, but it also kept her son from freaking out about his wife. If Abel were awake, he wouldn't follow orders and rest; Tara knew Hannah and the baby would be Abel's only priority.

"Thank you," Tara said with a fragile, distant smile. "I trust we will see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will," Dr. Parker replied. "Do you have any other questions?" The room stayed silent and gave the doctor her answer. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," Tara returned. Dr. Parker pivoted on her heel and exited the room.

The room seemed to breathe a little easier once she was gone. Both Delylah and Ophelia were crying, as were Venus and Althea, but Tara was more like the men; tears just felt weak, even though the news was heartbreaking. Jax gathered his wife in his arms, and Tara couldn't help but wonder if he needed her strength or if she needed his. When they broke away from one another, Tara's eyes locked with Sarah's, and she couldn't help but notice that, while she and Jax turned to one another for comfort, James and Sarah stood apart.

"I'm so sorry," Sarah murmured. Her eyes were wet with tears. "I really am."

"Thank you," Tara said kindly. Sarah had never been the problem. It was her husband. After seeing Hannah with Abel and Victor with Delylah, Tara knew any kindness came from the matriarch of the Sinclair family. Tara didn't believe for one second that James was capable of real kindness.

"I hope we can move past this," James said. Tara was surprised that the bastard could say anything at this point.

"I guess we need to just wait and see," Jax acquiesced. "With Abel in this—condition—we should focus our attention to Hannah and the baby. Let's get through one thing at a time. We'll worry about friendships when we can afford to." James inhaled, annoyed, but he nodded in agreement. Jax glanced around the room, his eyes resting on each person. Guilt overwhelmed him from every direction. He detested the feeling. Delylah watched as her father gave in to a man she hated. It made no sense to her. The Sinclairs walked away from Victor; they walked away from Abel and from Hannah, and her father was welcoming them back. She couldn't shake the feeling that James Sinclair was after more than the bastards that took his daughter.

Delylah tried like hell to figure out what that was as she stared at her comatose brother, memories of the waiting room forgotten. She stared at Victor, unsure of what to say. The machines beeped and whirled in the background, and Delylah wondered if Abel would ever wake. She knew that her father and his California friends were busy searching for clues. Thomas, Victor, and Will had joined in the search with law enforcement. Ophelia had lingered at the hospital, but there were times where her twin was hard to find.

"I just got off the phone with my supervisor," Victor stated, breaking Delylah's reverie.

"What did he say? Are they allowing you more time?" Delylah's gaze was hopeful as she stared at him. Just a few weeks ago, she was ready to run far away from Silver Spring. She was ready to go to NYU and say farewell to the quiet, boring life she'd grown up living. Now, she had this insane life built on a mountain of lies. She had a gay brother, a wonderful sister-in-law that was now missing, a comatose brother, renegade biker parents, and a whole slew of people that she barely knew involved in this mess. Still, she wouldn't trade Victor for anything. All she wanted was Hannah to be okay. She looked away from Victor and focused on Abel; she watched as the vent rushed air into his body.

"They are allowing me to take a leave of absence through FMLA," Victor explained. "I will be paid, and that'll mean I can help with the search for Hannah." A faint smile played on her lover's lips, but it disappeared the minute Delylah's met his. She looked so sad, when she should have been happy. She should have been overjoyed that Victor was staying in North Carolina. She should have rejoiced that he'd be around to help with her parents' search, but her heart just couldn't handle any emotions now. Even a sliver of happiness hurt too much.

"Are you alright?" Victor asked. Delylah's were blank as they now stared at nothing in particular.

"I'll be fine." Delylah knew it was a lie. She was far from okay, but she'd never show it. She closed her eyes as she felt Victor's big arms encircle her. He knew the truth. How absolutely untrue that was. He knew his beloved was floundering. _Hannah has to be found. She just has to._ The thoughts of Hannah overwhelmed him, and he knew that he was just as worried about Delylah as he was his sister. They were the two women he loved more than anything. Victor knew she wasn't fine. He heard her inhale deeply as she struggled to maintain her control.

Delylah felt manic. Her mind was racing. She couldn't feel anything, and it was terrifying. She was ripping apart at the seams. She was unsure about almost everybody and everything. Victor pulled her closer, and the tears came. Delylah just couldn't control it anymore. She was tired of being strong, and she was grateful that with Victor, she didn't have to be. They were in on this strange, dangerous odyssey. No matter what happened, she knew she was blessed to have a man like him. Her family and Victor were all she needed. As long as they had one another, she could afford just a little bit of hope. After all, failure was simply not an option.


	25. Chapter 25

_Come find me, Ophelia. I am sorry for everything. I will explain when I see you._

 _I love you._

Ophelia read the text over and over again. It didn't make sense. She hadn't seen Lucius since her brother's collapse. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him now, but if nothing else, her curiosity was piqued. There was a small part of her that loved him, but the majority of her soul could do without someone that couldn't be there for her when she needed him most. As she stared at the screen, she debated what to say.

 _I'm on my way._

She didn't answer. She knew she didn't have to. He knew that, if she didn't want to see him, she wouldn't be home when he arrived. She'd carefully lied to both her father and her mother to ensure she would have a good half hour or so before anyone noticed her absence. The urge to escape was strong.

She placed the phone on the kitchen counter and left it. Her eyes scanned the house. It amazed her how far the repairs had come along. It almost as if nothing had ever happened. Jax, Tig, Thomas, Victor, and Will had seen to that. It was important that Abel, once awake and given the go-ahead to go home, had a place to come home to.

"Such a waste," she whispered. She couldn't imagine Abel coming back here. She didn't even want to be here, and the rest of the family seemed to share that sentiment. They'd been bunking at the cabin since Hannah's abduction. Tig, Venus, and Althea had joined them. With either Jax or Tara always at the hospital, they felt safer with their Charming friends being there. Opie, after days of flashbacks, finally felt safe. The cabin was the closest to normal that she had.

Nightmares didn't live there. Here, they reigned, they crashed into her memory, and they wouldn't let go. Even though her fear edged into her heart, she knew that it was the last place anyone would look for her. Ophelia had made no secret of her dislike of the family home. As she stared out the window, she wondered if she'd ever have a home again.

The sun was setting. Purple, red, and gold shadows were cast across her parents' massive living room. This room was once her favorite. It always had the most beautiful light, and the heat that radiated from the sun always kept it cozy. Once upon a time, she never felt more secure than she did in that room. It amazed her how fast that all changed.

"Ophelia." The word was barely whispered, and she jumped. When she turned, she saw Lucius standing in the entryway. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stared at him. He looked better than she'd remembered.

"I didn't even hear you," she shakily replied. In Lucius' absence, Opie no longer knew if she loved him. Theirs had been a relationship of comfort, of young passion, of pure desire. That could really get confused with love. Still, as he stood before her, her pulse raced. He looked damn hot, and no matter what, she couldn't deny that.

Lucius held up his keys in response. Dressed in loose fitting jeans and an emerald green t-shirt, Lucius pale peridot eyes sparkled against his dark hair and newly tanned skin. They were full of remorse and longing as he stared at her. He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, but she pushed back.

"Hello to you too, Lucius," she rasped as she pushed herself away. Her blue eyes were cautious as they stared at him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

The slick, easy smile that had been plastered across Lucius' lips faded. He crossed his arms across his chest. He appeared ready for the onslaught. To his surprise, Opie stared back at him. She said nothing. _Beautiful and stubborn_ , he thought. _What a shame I can't grow old with you._ He'd known this when he became involved with her. He was part of a bigger mission, one that couldn't be jeopardized just because he'd fallen for a copper-haired vixen. It still hurt though. He'd gotten used to her in his bed, and these last few days without her had been hell. It was the closest Lucius had come to real emotion, and he hated it.

"I've been scared, Opie," he lied easily. At this point, he didn't know where the lies ended and the truth began. It no longer mattered. He was too far in to go back now. "When Hannah—disappeared-and your brother collapsed, I freaked out. I got scared. My whole life has been spent running. I did what came natural."

Opie kept staring. She was unmoved.

"You think I was calm?" she questioned. "Do you think I was alright watching my whole life implode? I know you came from a bad place, but I needed you. And you left me."

Lucius nodded. He struggled to remember the details of what he'd told her about his past. In his mind, he'd only slightly doctored the truth.

"You know what I grew up with, Op," Lucius wheedled. "My crackhead mama couldn't support me, so I was thrown in foster care. When I turned sixteen, I was out, but that was only after I'd been in three bad homes, each one worse than the next. I ran every time things were bad. It was in my blood to run."

"How fucking poetic of you," Ophelia stated. She didn't realize how angry she was—until now. At least when Lucius was gone, she didn't hate him. He was out of sight, out of mind. Now, standing before her, she no longer cared about his hard luck story. Victor had grown up in hell, but he never left Delylah's side. She knew simply by looking at Venus and Tig that their lives had been less than ideal, but they were here for her parents. "I'm sorry if I think it's bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, Op," he returned. Lucius felt the ire surge through his veins. As beautiful and smart as she was, he also knew she had one helluva mouth when provoked. Now was one of those times. "I didn't know what to do."

"You could've stayed by me," Ophelia returned. "You could've overcome your fucking fears and helped me through my own. It's not like you're a kid, Lucius. You're almost twenty-one. You can't just fucking run when things get weird."

"Weird?" Lucius laughed. He was so far into character, he felt as if he was actually arguing with her. She had no idea that he was the gatekeeper to her sister-in-law's cushy prison. Ophelia had no idea he held Hannah Teller's life-and the life of her unborn child-in his hands. All he needed was the go ahead, and Abel's tiny little family would fade into oblivion. "Hannah is gone, Abel is knocking on death's door, and you call that weird? Are you insane?"

"It's the only way I know how to deal with it," Ophelia responded. Her voice was choked with tears as she turned her back. She didn't want to break down in front of him. There were pieces of her that didn't want any kind of vulnerability. Being breakable left her exposed, and she now realized she hated that feeling.

"Oh, baby," Lucius sighed. Wordlessly, he walked to Ophelia and gingerly put his arms around her. She stiffened, but she let him continue. Again, he struggled with his mission and his feelings. It was hard to ignore Ophelia's sweet, open fear, but it was equally hard to ignore the demons that waged within him. It was true; he was brought up by a crackhead mom. Years spent in and out of the foster care system left him emancipated at sixteen. All that was true. What he kept hidden was the benefactor that helped him rise above his fucked up background. That was a secret he'd die keeping.

"I'm not your baby," Ophelia defiantly whispered, but she didn't pull away. Lucius placed a gentle kiss on her neck, and she shuddered. He reveled in his effect on her. Slowly, carefully, he turned her to face him. Her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, he felt her give in. He said nothing as he brushed a careful hand across her cheek.

"I love you, Ophelia," he said low. It wasn't a complete lie. When he was with her, away from a captive Hannah, he felt a genuine affinity for her. He felt like he'd been free from his horrible past. She didn't respond. Instead, she pulled away and faced the window. Night was taking over. The reds and purples had bled into darker blue and black. A sliver of sunlight still remained, but it was slim.

"I need to go," she said quietly. "My parents will be looking for me."

Lucius felt nauseous. She didn't say _I love you_ back. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her.

"So?" The word was venomous as it escaped his mouth. Opie turned to stare at him. Her blue eyes were daggers in his chest.

"So?" Opie spewed back. "So? My parents are going to be worried. Neither one of them knew I was coming to see you. They'd kill me before they'd let you back into my life."

"Why? Because I got scared?" Lucius felt his anger bubbling.

"No," Opie answered. "Everyone gets scared. Not everyone runs."

"Then fuck your family," Lucius spat. Opie's eyes were massive as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Get the fuck out!" she screamed. She didn't understand how Lucius could change within seconds, but that just made her hate him more. Disgusted and furious she tried to push past him, but he blocked her way. 4

"Move," Opie demanded. Lucius laughed. It was a haunting, crazy sound.

"No," he whispered. He could feel the adrenaline course through his veins. His senses were heightened, and he enjoyed every single moment of it. He even found Opie's rebellious stare incredibly hot.

"Yes," she yelled as she pushed him. Only three or inches separated them in height, but he outweighed her by a good fifty pounds. She darted in the opposite direction, but he was faster, and he grabbed her by the wrists and pinioned her arms by her sides. Fear all but paralyzed her as she struggled against him. He laughed at her.

"Just go, please," she whimpered. Her lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears. A small part of Lucius pitied her, but she'd gone too far to allow his emotions to take over.

"I'm not leaving without you," he growled.

"But my mom—" Opie stammered. Her wrists ached from his grasp. The room was almost completely dark now, but the lights that illuminated the driveway allowed her a view of his face. A cold, frightening smile all but sparkled in the darkness. He lowered his lips to hers. She stiffened he forced her mouth open with his tongue. She screamed into his mouth, but that just excited him more. Her survival instinct kicked in. She ceased her screaming, but before he could react to it, she sank her teeth into his tongue. An anguished scream erupted from his throat.

 _This is my chance_ , her brain screamed as she attempted to bolt. Again, Lucius was too fast. She'd managed to get away, but she simply wasn't quick enough. As she ran, he dove after her, and he grabbed her ankle. Ophelia fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

"You fucking bitch!" Lucius screamed as he knelt beside her. His knuckles crashed into the soft skin of her cheek, and Ophelia saw stars. She felt blood pour from her mouth as she tried to maintain consciousness. Another brutal backhand splintered her nose. She was struggling to breathe as she felt blackness surrounding her. As her consciousness faded away, she felt him move to stand, and even though every cell in her body told her to crawl away, Ophelia simply didn't couldn't move. A savage kick to the side caused her to scream. She could hear him laughing as she gave in to the pain.

As kick after kick came, Ophelia prayed for the agony to end. In the distance, she heard her phone buzz repeatedly. _They know I'm missing now,_ she thought as the blows kept coming. _Please just let them find me alive._ It was the last thought she had before she mercifully blacked out.


	26. Chapter 26

Delylah didn't believe a damn word that came from Ophelia's mouth. When she told her mother just needed space, a little time to herself, Delylah knew that her twin was full of shit. What confused and astounded her even more was that her mother didn't blink an eye as Opie said she was going back to the cabin.

"I'm sure you're not going to get any alone time once you're there, Op," Tara all but whispered. They were sitting vigil in Abel's room. Tara sat in a small hospital recliner, and Althea sat across from her in a stiff hospital chair. Tig sat guard outside of the room. Tara couldn't help but feel a little better that Tig was there; it truly felt like old times at St. Thomas.

"Venus and Will are there," Delylah stated. She watched as Ophelia's blue eyes glittered with annoyance. Her long red hair was loose, and her slender body was dressed in black leggings and a loose black tank top. Underneath the tank peeked a body hugging black camisole. Delylah noticed how thin Opie was getting, and she didn't like it. Her twin had always run more towards the lean than Delylah did, but this was probably the thinnest she'd ever been. It never failed; food was the first casualty in Opie's wars with sadness or anger or stress, and this was no exception.

"They don't bother me," Ophelia stated calmly. "Usually, they let me be. I just need to get outta here, Mama."

"It defeats the purpose of leaving, don't you think?" Delylah didn't give Tara a chance to respond. Something wasn't right about her sister's sudden urge to leave. She and Delylah had come to the hospital just a couple hours ago. Opie knew they'd planned on being there the majority of the day. Now, suddenly, Opie needed to be alone. If Delylah knew her sister at all, she knew her behavior was weird, at best. Her gut told her that the reason she wanted to leave had nothing to do with being alone, and it had everything to do with Lucius.

 _Lucius._ Delylah hated the sound of his name in her brain. He'd completely disappeared after Abel's collapse. Ophelia had reached out to him over and over, to no avail. Delylah knew that it broke Opie's heart, but she also knew Opie would never show it, especially with the search for Hannah in full swing and Abel's life hanging in the balance. Delylah had no clue as to why her sister's boyfriend decided to jump ship, but she really hadn't spent much time dwelling on it. She saw his disappearance as a blessing; she'd never like Lucius much anyway. He wasn't the man her sister needed. He certainly was no Victor.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Delylah?" Opie's voice dripped annoyance as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Delylah almost laughed. Ophelia looked like a parody of herself. It was impossible to believe that they were the same age. Ophelia seemed so much younger than Delylah did.

"She's just trying to keep you safe, Opie," Althea spoke up now. "I don't think you understand the danger your family is in. There hasn't been a trace of Hannah since she was abducted. Your father, Victor, and Thomas are working with the police to find her. I can't tell you the number of favors I've called in to help find her."

"I don't think I'm in danger," Ophelia replied. "I mean, I'm driving straight there. I have to drive through Silver Spring to get there. I can stop and see Daddy on the way, so y'all know I'm safe."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go alone," Delylah interjected.

"I don't give a damn what you think," Opie countered. "You're not my mother. Hell, you've been up Victor's ass so much lately, I'd say you're not even being much of a sister at this point."

"Fuck you," Delylah's raised voice slammed into the quiet. "You've been so goddamned mopey, no one can fucking talk to you! Before Hannah was taken, you stayed in that goddamned room, all woe-is-me about Mama and Daddy's secret, instead of taking it on and dealing with it. Now that Hannah's gone and Abel's sick, it's all I can do to get your ungrateful ass out of bed."

"Did you stop to think that my world is falling apart?" Opie's onslaught of words began. "We graduated a month ago, and I thought I'd have a summer before college—instead, I learn my parents have been lying to us _our entire fucking lives_ —our sister-in-law is kidnapped—our brother is steps from death. In less than two months, I start at Duke—and I don't even know what fucking name to fucking use! I don't even know who I am anymore!"

"Enough!" Tara cried. She hated seeing her girls fight like this. "You're both right, goddamnit. Opie, I'm sorry you're going through this hell, but I did everything I could to keep it from happening. I know you _both_ are hurting—and confused—and unsure of what to do—but Delylah, you have Victor to fall back on. Opie doesn't have that. She's always thrived on normalcy—you thrive in chaos. Cut your sister a break, and let her feel what she needs to feel."

"You see why I want to be alone?" Opie asked. Tears strained her voice as she fought back tears. Normally, Delylah would feel bad for her sister, but her words cut Delylah deeply. At this point, it was all Delylah could do not to cry too.

Tara nodded. "I do," she said. "But you have to be safe right now. We can't afford to lose you too. Go to the cabin. Check in with Daddy before you head there."

"Thank you, Mama," Ophelia whispered, instantly contrite.

"I mean it, Op," Tara warned. "Check in with your father. Let him lay eyes on you—don't check in through a phone call. Go to the police station, and check in with him. Then go straight to the cabin." Ophelia nodded in understanding.

Without speaking, Delylah pulled the keys from her pocket and slammed them Abel's rolling bedside table. She said nothing as she walked out the door. Tara closed her eyes as the door closed behind her daughter. Delylah was so much like Jax in her anger—achingly explosive. Ophelia was more like her mother; she seethed and boiled until she could no longer take it, but once she did, the edge was dulled.

Tara's hazel eyes scanned her daughter's face. She was the baby of the family, but only by minutes. Growing up, Delylah was the wild one, the one that ran with the boys without regard for her safety. Tara and Jax never had to worry about their youngest child. Ophelia was always by Tara's side, always the serious one, the homebody. She'd been the perfect student, and in the fall, she'd be the one that followed in Tara's doctor footsteps.

 _If we make it through the summer_ , Tara thought sadly. She'd always taken Opie's seriousness as a blessing, but now, in the midst of all the calamity of the season, Tara realized that maybe a little bit of Delylah's crazy would have done Ophelia a little bit of good. Delylah could weather any storm; Ophelia, not so much.

"Thank you, Mama," she said quietly. Tara nodded. She was afraid to speak. Tears came too often these days. Opie's hand slid across the small table and grabbed the keys. With a look of gratitude, she went over and hugged her mother. Tara embraced her daughter, and when they broke apart, she watched as Ophelia walked out the door. Once it fell shut behind her, Tara allowed the tears to flow. Althea, moved by Tara's pain, stood and walked to her. Placing a gentle hand on Tara's shoulder, Althea fought back her own tears.

"Why do I feel like I did everything wrong?" Tara rasped. "I tried to give them a life outside of Charming, a life where they'd have a chance at normal, and it's done no good. It's like we're right back where we started, Althea. The only difference is geography."

"You did everything you felt was right," Chibs' widow stated. "And for what it's worth, I've asked myself that question a million times since Filip's murder. I always wondered if Johnny's paternity should have been known. I mean, I'm sure all of Charming will know the truth soon, if they don't already. There were so many years that Johnny and Filip could've bonded on a whole different level—and now he's gone."

Tara reached up and grabbed Althea's hand. She squeezed it in understanding.

"I guess fucking up is just part of it," Tara said. "We've made it this far, and I'm sure everything will work out the way it needs to."

"It will," Althea said quietly. As she returned to her seat, Tara grabbed her phone and texted Jax, letting him know about the plans. It was only when he responded that Tara began to worry less. The cabin was a half hour away from their Silver Spring house. Once Opie checked in, Tara would be able to breathe again.

#####################################################################################

 _I think Opie is going to find Lucius._

Victor read the text message from Delylah. It'd been an hour or so since her twin had left the hospital. Other than a slight eyebrow raise, the Marine's face didn't change as he replied.

 _Do you want me to check on her?_

It was a reasonable question. It still amazed him at how well he fit in to Delylah's family. He'd never once imagined he'd be in love with Abel's little sister. It had been so long since he'd had a real family, he forgot what it felt like to have people that had one another's back.

 _She's supposed to come in and check in with Daddy on her way to the cabin. Text me if that doesn't happen._

With a quick _okay_ , Victor slid his phone into his pocket. He glanced around, marveling at the size of the Silver Spring Police Department. His post in California was three times the size of the modest station. Just a few hundred feet away, Jax and Thomas were conversing with an officer, oblivious to Victor's temporary absence. He walked over to them.

Jack Petty sat by Jax's side as they poured over file after file. The officer was shocked when first responded to the call about Hannah Sinclair's abduction, and he was equally astounded to learn that Eric and Elizabeth Morgan were really Jax and Tara Teller. It didn't affect how he interacted with the man he'd known for years, because he knew that Jax's name was the only difference between the upstanding Silver Spring citizen and the renegade Charming biker.

"I've been catching up on the files," Jack said calmly. "Your friend, Althea Jarry, was kind enough to bring the chief up to speed on your story. When I heard what happened at Ada—I mean, Abel's wedding, I knew I wanted to help you find the bastards that are tearing your family apart. I hope you're okay with that."

Jax nodded. He'd known Jack Petty for eighteen years, having met him just a couple of months after their arrival in Silver Spring. They'd struck up an amicable acquaintance when Jax started working on the police department's cars, and if there was ever any kind of problem, Jax knew he could count on Jack to take care of the shop and his family, if needed. It was perfect logic.

"It's gotta be the Irish," Jax returned. "Nothing else makes sense. The majority of my old enemies are either dead or in prison. I don't what their issue is with me, but I thought any tension would die once I was considered _dead_. Once Chibs came knocking on my door, I knew that my theory was wrong."

"You think they're the ones that killed your sister?" Thomas asked quietly. Jax nodded. "But I don't understand."

"They must be mad that I left SAMCRO behind after Galen O'Shea's murder," Jax whispered. "I mean, I really did leave SAMCRO at a critical point in their relationship with the Kings—August Marks was trying to take over Stockton and corner the gun market, and the Kings—well, they don't take to people of another color."

Thomas blushed as he thought of Will. _God, I'm fucking lucky Pop got the hell out of Charming._ He knew that, with his sexuality and Will's ethnicity, their romance would have never happened. If anything, it probably would have gotten them killed. _But Venus and Tig made it_ , his mind retorted. Thomas still wondered how the hell they made that happen, especially with Tig then being the Vice President of SAMCRO. When he thought of them, Thomas had a little more hope that SAMCRO wasn't the narrow-minded, bigoted group he'd envisioned.

"Althea explained that," Jack said quietly. "She told me that part of your deal was tying up loose ends, and that sent Marks to prison. That gave the Kings the ability to really capitalize on the gunrunning—and the Sons eventually withdrew from the gun trade. That theory doesn't make a goddamned bit of sense, if you ask me. The Kings shouldn't have been mad; they should've been thankful."

"Ah, but there's the issue, Jack: Common sense doesn't occur in my old world. Charming is a place of misunderstood, old-fashioned codes of honor. What seems perfectly reasonable to us doesn't to them. I'm telling you—they must've found out I was alive and well—and they got pissed. They went after Trinity, knowing Chibs would come find me, and that's exactly what happened."

"But why take Hannah?" Victor chimed in. "You would think that, if the beef is with you, they'd go after Tara. Or you. Or even your kids. But why Hannah? Why my sister?"

"She's pregnant," Jax stated, as if it were the obvious answer.

"Yeah, but no one but Abel and Hannah knew that," Victor countered. "You said yourself; only you and Tara knew after the wedding. The Kings would have no way of knowing that. So why Hannah?"

"Because Abel loves her," Thomas replied. "She's his Achilles heel, and that makes her Pop's Achilles heel as well. He and my mom have lived a longer life—so if they were killed today, it would hurt like hell, but the pain wouldn't compare to losing a young, twenty-one year old wife would. The Kings are looking to make an impact."

Jax was impressed by his younger son's ability to understand a system he'd never grown up in. He was far more logical than Abel was—always had been. Jax couldn't help but wonder what kind of President Thomas would have made, had the circumstances been different.

"That still doesn't answer the other questions, Thomas," Victor said. So many questions plagued Victor's mind. "I mean, how did they know Abel was getting married? How did they know where Chibs was?"

"That's something I can't answer yet," Jax answered. "I mean, they have to have a certain amount of intel in order to be a step ahead, but I don't know how they got it."

"Daddy?" Ophelia's voice carried over the low hum of the voices surrounding them. Thomas looked up and saw his fragile sibling. _God, Op,_ he thought sadly _. You need to eat._ Jax waved her over. He stood and hugged his daughter.

"Hey Op," he whispered. "Your mom tells me you're headed to the cabin?" The youngest Teller nodded.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just can't take another minute in that hospital."

"You didn't have to go," Thomas told his sister. "No one would hold it against you."

Ophelia loved her brother. He always understood her more than Delylah or Abel did. He knew she'd feel guilty by not being by Abel's side. _If only you knew I was leaving him to see Lucius._ Her conscience ate at her gut. She knew meeting him was a mistake, but he'd only asked for a little time. Despite her anger, Ophelia couldn't help but be curious about where he'd been. She had to know, even though she knew, deep down, that she wasn't going to stay with him.

"You gonna be here for a little longer?" Ophelia asked Jax.

"For a while longer, actually," Jax replied. "I'm gonna grab some food and go back up to the hospital and sit with your mom. Thomas and I are going to take the overnight shift later on. We just have a bunch of stuff to work on before we go."

Opie nodded. A small sliver of relief filled her belly as she realized she just might be able to pull her clandestine meeting off. They were all so involved in finding Hannah, they wouldn't even realize she took longer to get the cabin. On the way in, she'd formulated a story to explain her lateness; once she was done with Lucius, she'd text Tara and tell her she'd stopped by the house for clothes. It was perfect.

"You need me to go with ya, Op?" Thomas asked. She shook her head in the negative.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'm going straight to the cabin. I'll text Mama when I get there."

Satisfied with that response, Jax, Thomas, and Victor bid farewell to Ophelia. As Victor watched Ophelia walk away, a strange feeling of trepidation filled him. Just a couple weeks ago, after Hannah's disappearance, Opie insisted on staying with someone—she would practically beg Delylah to stay in her room at times; now, she was driving to the cabin alone. Delylah's worry now plagued him, too. He grabbed his phone.

 _She checked in. Let me know if she doesn't call your mom. I have a feeling you're right._

#################################################################################

"What do you mean, she's not there?" Tara's voice filled the hospital room. "She texted me to tell me she'd stopped by the house to pick up some things. She should've showed up by now, Venus."

Delylah could hear Venus' sweet voice on the other end of the phone. She fought the urge to scream _I told you so_ , but she hated that she was right. She had no doubt that her twin was tangled up in Lucius, letting him spout apologies and promises.

"I'll call Jax," Tara said softly. Delylah was already a step ahead of her, clicking away at her phone.

 _Opie isn't at the cabin. Venus said she never made it there._

Victor closed his eyes after he'd read the text. Jax and Thomas had just left the station. He was alone, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. The phone beeped again, notifying Victor of another text.

 _Mama said Op was going to stop by the house to get some things. Can you go by and see if she's still there? Poor Mama is about to have a heart attack._

 _Of course I will._ Victor knew he didn't have much of a choice, but he worried as much as Delylah did about Op. Even though she was a moody pain in the ass, he knew that the craziness Ophelia felt was because of all the change. The last couple of weeks had been hell.

Jax had left his keys with Victor, and they'd taken Thomas' zippy little convertible back to Valley Memorial. Victor was grateful for it. He didn't know how well his bulky soldier's body would fit into that tiny car. Jax's truck was far more comfortable. He got in and cranked the diesel engine to life, and within seconds, he was driving down the small town roads to Jax and Tara's.

 _I could get used to this place again._ A soaking late July heat filled the cabin of the truck as Victor rolled the window down. In the time since he'd left, he didn't miss a single thing about Silver Spring. He always associated the small town with James' abuse and Sarah's indifference. The only part of Silver Spring he'd ever missed was Hannah. Now, he knew that, when he finally did go back to California, he'd miss Delylah like crazy. Part of him wondered if she'd follow him out there. It was a crazy thought, but it was one that filled him with happiness.

"What the hell?" The words were barely audible as Victor turned into the long driveway. Two cars were parked there, but Victor only recognized the car Ophelia and Delylah shared. The other was a mystery. It was a long, smooth black sedan, and Victor had never seen it more. He parked the truck and headed inside. He was astonished to find the door wide open.

"Op?" Victor walked into the room as he simultaneously reached for a light switch and his gun. He never went anywhere without. Tonight, it was tucked into the waist of his jeans. He grabbed it and readied it as he found the light switch he sought. As the light illuminated the space, he was shocked at what he saw before him.

Blood. It was everywhere. Playbacks of Hannah's abduction ran through his mind, except this time, it covered the living room floor, soaking into the hardwood floors and into the old, beautiful rug. A crimson trail rolled into the kitchen. Gun raised, Victor walked carefully through huge, silent house.

"Help me." The voice was small, and it was so quiet that Victor almost missed it. He glanced over the big island, and he was shocked to see Opie, lying in a pool of blood. Her nose was shattered, and her eyes were almost swollen shut. Blood seemed to pour from every orifice of her body, and she shook with a mixture of fear and shock. Victor tucked his gun back into the waist of his jeans and knelt by her side.

"W-wh-who are you?" Opie stammered. It didn't occur to Victor that she couldn't see, but as he got a closer look at her, he saw that her eyes wouldn't open. They were the size of golf balls, and Victor's heart shattered as he placed a careful hand on her. She recoiled.

"It's Victor, honey," he said carefully. "What happened?"

"I—I'm sorry, Victor," she began to apologize. Victor cradled her head in one hand as he reached for the phone with the other. He dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator's twangy voice crackled in his ear.

"I need an ambulance at 4691 Church Road. I have a woman that has been a victim of-"

 _Stars._ Victor saw stars. The back of his head screamed in pain as he collapsed. _What the fuck?_ His brain cried as he tried to get back up. Another blow to his skull sent him reeling to the ground. He'd been hit in just the right spot. The pain was unbearable as fell into Ophelia's blood. As he spiraled into unconsciousness, he heard Ophelia scream in pain. His eyes opened and shut rapidly, but he saw the outline of a man walking away. Ophelia was in his arms.

"Victor?" he heard her cry. "Victor, are you carrying me? Victor, please—" she sobbed.

"Stop. Fucking. Screaming!" The man's voice echoed as he headed out the door. "Or I will give you a reason to fucking scream."

Everything else went silent. Victor could hear Ophelia's cries as the door opened. They faded into the night, and eventually, they just stopped. His head was pounding as he tried to regain his equilibrium. He struggled to sit up, but the pain was too strong. The all-too-familiar sound of sirens came closer as he heard the strange car from the driveway roar to life. As Victor's head spun, the man's voice played over and over again in head, they mixed with the sound of Ophelia's plaintive cries, and as he heard the ambulance and first responders, he knew the voice like he knew his own name.

"Lucius," he whispered as he gave in to the pain. "I'm going to fucking find you. And I will fucking kill you. That is a promise."


	27. Chapter 27

Jax got the call from Tara about forty minutes after he and Thomas left the police station. Thomas was behind the wheel, and Jax was grateful for it. He had no business behind the wheel of such a small, fancy vehicle. After he gave up motorcycles, he turned to trucks. He had never been one for cars. Trucks just made more sense.

The vibration alerted Jax first, then as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. Tara's beautiful face appeared on the screen, and Jax automatically smiled. It still amazed him how much he absolutely loved her. Over thirty years had passed since the day they'd first met. Every day, he prayed for at least thirty more. He just loved her. Tara and his family, they were all that mattered.

"Hey babe," he answered. He was glad that Thomas had decided to leave the top up.

"Jax, did Ophelia call you?" There was a hard edge to Tara's voice. Jax heard the panic. Immediately, his heart fell to his stomach. He hated that sound. He'd heard it more times than he cared to remember, and that sound was never, ever good.

"No, I thought she was supposed to call you," Jax said softly. Truth was, he couldn't remember who the hell was supposed to call who. He was so wrapped up in procedurals and old crime records and the Irish Kings that he'd paid very little attention to Opie.

"She was," Tara answered. "But when she didn't, I assumed she'd call you."

"I've heard nothing," Tara said softly. "She said she was going to the house to grab some things, and then—" She didn't have to finish. Jax looked over at Thomas, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of anger and fear.

"Turn around," he growled. "Go to the house."

"Pop, what's going on?" Thomas asked, but his father's mouth was set in a hard line. He'd only seen that face a handful of times.

"Just get to the fucking house. Now." Thomas didn't need to be told twice. He pounded on the brakes and did a k-turn that would make a racecar driver jealous. The sound of tires peeling over asphalt rang through the night. When Jax looked over at the odometer, he saw that it was pegged at almost ninety miles an hour. _Thank God this a straightaway._ Had the fear not been climbing in his heart, Jax would've been proud of his son. They were at the house faster than even Jax had expected. The car spit gravel as he slammed into the driveway.

"What the fuck?" Thomas couldn't believe the myriad of red and blue lights that surrounded their house. Before Abel's wedding, Thomas could honestly say he'd never seen a cop at his house. Since SAMCRO entered their lives, he'd seen them far more than he ever cared to. An ambulance and at least two cop cars were there. The chaos was unreal.

Jax bolted from the car faster than a man half his age. There had been a time when Jax would've run from the cops, not to them. The outlaw within his soul had been all but lost over the last eighteen years, and even after Chibs' murder, he tried to keep that side of him in check, but as the multicolored lights blinded him, he felt murderous.

"Pop! Wait!" Thomas was in awe of his father's physicality. He knew his father was strong and powerful, but to see him run across their lawn at such a breakneck speed rendered him speechless. Thomas got out of the car and slammed the door. He ran after his father, but he wasn't quick enough to catch him. Jax was already in the house before Thomas could catch up.

When Thomas entered the house, he was shocked to see the absolute blood bath his mother's living room had become. Tears filled his eyes as he wondered what happened to Ophelia. His mind automatically raced to Ophelia's funeral. Within a split second, Thomas already envisioned his sister's casket, covered in a spray of soft pink roses. A lump caught in his throat as he walked towards the kitchen.

The room was crawling with law enforcement, but that's not what threw Thomas off. What shattered him was the sight of Victor, completely dazed, lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The first responders surrounded him. The huge Marine looked worse for the wear. His eyes were wide and confused. He was covered in blood, so it was difficult for the EMTs to pinpoint the origin of the injuries.

"What is your name?" one of the responders asked. She was a pretty young thing, with dark hair and dark eyes. She watched Victor carefully as she asked the required questions.

"Victor," he wheezed. "Victor Sinclair." The girl grabbed a tiny flashlight from her pocket and flicked it on. Victor winced as she flashed it in his eyes.

"Pupils are reactive," she said, flicking the flashlight off. She stared into his eyes. "Do you know where you are?" The questions were rapid-fire, and they were designed to be that way. The object of the assessment was to determine the severity of his injuries.

"I'm at Jax and Tara's." The EMT looked up. The town was small enough that everyone knew Eric and Elizabeth Morgan lived at 4691 Church Road. No one knew who the hell Jax and Tara were.

"Who are Jax and Tara?" The girl blinked her huge brown eyes. Jax thought she looked familiar. _Maybe she knew Abel?_ She didn't look any older than Abel or Thomas, but when Jax glanced at his younger son, there was no resignation on his face.

"I'm Jax," the former biker clarified. The EMT blinked rapidly, confused. "It's a long story, but trust me when I say he knows exactly where the hell he is." Still not quite comprehending, she turned attention back to Victor.

"He has a huge hematoma on the back of his skull consistent with blunt force trauma." The pretty girl's nametag was visible as her gloved hands helped her assess Victor's wounds. _D. Banks._ The name didn't ring a bell at all, but her face kept triggering something strange in Jax's head. He couldn't place her, but he knew she'd been in his house before. He just didn't know when.

"We found him like this," Jack Petty's voice cut into the tension. "We've questioned him as much as we can, Eric—I mean—"

"I know what you meant," Jax returned.

"I'm sure his mind is a little cloudy, given the—uh—injuries," Jack stammered. "So we'll get him to the hospital, get him treated, and we'll question him again when he's more stable." Jax nodded in understanding and turned to his daughter's boyfriend. Victor's dark eyes were tired and bleary as he tried to focus on Jax's face.

"Victor, what happened?" Jax asked. He was astounded by the amount of blood that surrounded them, and his chest ached as he realized that all that blood couldn't have come from Victor's injuries.

"Delylah asked me to come and check on Opie," Victor began. "She got worried when she didn't make it to the cabin on time." The conversation began as if law enforcement and EMTs weren't surrounding them. Jax didn't really see anyone but Victor now. The injured soldier was the only person that knew what happened to his Ophelia.

"How did she know Op was here?" Thomas spoke up.

"She told Tara she was stopping here," Victor explained. "Said she needed to grab a few things."  
Jax noticed the younger man's speech was slightly slurred. His eyes appeared unfocused, and Jax was impressed by Victor's memory. _Once a Marine, always a Marine,_ he thought. _Nothing can bring this man down._ A part of him hoped Victor would possibly be a son-in-law one day; the other part prayed that day wouldn't happen. He'd just watched Abel get married. He didn't know if he could handle Delylah getting hitched, too.

"So Lala called you and asked you to swing by?" Jax asked again. Victor nodded. "What happened then?"

The room felt as if it were spinning as the first responders lowered a gurney next to him. It took two of them to transfer him to the awaiting, way-too-thin mattress. The sight of the massive man on that tiny bed was almost comical. He looked up again, and he thought he saw four of Jax, when really he was just focusing on Jax and Thomas and seeing double. Father and son favored one another more than either one realized.

"When I got here, the door was unlocked, open," Victor relayed. "I walked in. It was dark—so fucking dark." A wave of nausea flowed through him, but he swallowed it down. Dizziness reigned supreme in his brain, so he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and continued.

"I flicked the light on," Victor stated. "And there was blood every fucking where. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I walked towards the kitchen, because I'd heard something—and that's when I found her."

"Ophelia?" Jax's voice trembled as he envisioned his daughter, bloody and broken, in the kitchen. "Was she—?" He couldn't image his daughter as anything but alive.

"She was alive," Victor answered. "If only, barely. She was in bad shape. Her nose was all fucked up, her eyes swollen shut—" Victor's voice cracked with the recollection. "All the blood you see here—the majority of it is hers, Jax." Unable to help himself, Victor Sinclair began to cry. "I tried to save her. I was by her goddamned side, I had her in my hands—and then something hit me from behind. Not once, but twice. I tried fighting, Jax, I did—but I failed. I fucking failed."

Without hesitation, Thomas walked over to Victor and placed a gentle hand on the burly man's shoulder. The younger Teller wept openly with the man that had endured so much. They all had. The last few weeks had been an exercise in pure hell.

"You didn't fail, Victor," Thomas whispered. Victor's hazy, agonized eyes met Thomas', and it was all Jax could do to maintain his calm. The only thing that kept the Teller patriarch sane was the knowledge that Victor had opened himself to them. He knew that, if he exploded, Victor would stop talking. He knew the young man well enough to know that Victor would retreat inward to save himself. They weren't so different from one another.

"I did," Victor asserted. "I had her—and I lost her—all to a sonofabitch that tricked us all."

"Who?" Thomas asked. His heart was skipping beats, and for a moment, Thomas wondered if he was more like Abel than he'd originally thought.

"Lucius," Victor choked. "Lucius was the one that beat her. He's the one that beat me. And he's the bastard that took her. And there's not a doubt in my motherfucking mind that he has Hannah, too."

The look of horror on Jax's face was unmistakable, but it quickly changed to sheer fury.

"Lucius?" Jax seethed. His teeth were clenched as he spoke. "But—"

"I don't understand it either. I don't know why," Victor asserted. "All I know is the agony Delylah is going to go through once she realizes her twin is missing. As much as she fights it, Ophelia is Delylah's other half."

"I will bust his fucking face for that alone," Jax fumed. "I'll break his goddamned knee caps for what he's done to you—and depending on what happens to Ophelia and Hannah—"

"Will dictate whether you show mercy or make him beg," Thomas finished with a whisper. Jax blinked his eyes, unsure of whether to be happy or horrified with his son's intuition. Thomas' blue eyes glittered with an equal, but quieter fury. A small blossom of pride swelled in Jax's chest, in spite of himself.

"Jax," Jack Petty interrupted. "The kid really needs a doctor. We can come up with how to fuck up bastards on the way."

Jax nodded in understanding as the EMTs jacked the gurney up to its full height.

"Where am I going?" Victor asked. Genuine confusion registered in his eyes as he looked about the room.

"The hospital." The girl with the D. Banks nametag stated the obvious. Thomas rolled his tear stained eyes in frustration.

"He meant _which one_." Thomas was annoyed as he spoke. If he could have added the word _stupid_ to the end of the sentence, he would have.

"I want him at Valley Memorial," Jax stated firmly. Victor's eyes registered surprise. Thomas' didn't.  
"I don't want Delylah to have to shuffle between two hospitals. I want him with family."

 _Family._ It wasn't a word Victor had often heard. Once he hit eighteen, he was out the door, gone from Silver Spring, gone from everything that he hated. When Hannah asked that he come to her wedding, he initially said no. It was Sarah that orchestrated the surprise. Still, he debated staying in California until the moment he stepped on the plane.

He thought of Delylah as his head swam with pain. The humid night air felt wonderful on his aching, burning body. He loved her. He had never been more certain of anything. Still, there were times when the realization took him off-guard.

"I'll drive, Thomas," Victor heard Jax say as they followed the gurney. "Go with Victor."

Thomas gave an imperceptible nod and threw his keys at his father. Jax expertly caught them, and he climbed into the small convertible as Thomas followed Victor in to the ambulance. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed.

Victor watched as Thomas stared out at his father. His heart ached for them all. For Thomas and Jax, who now knew what he knew. He didn't know how Tara would react to her child being beaten and abducted, but it was Delylah that he worried about most. Ophelia had been with Delylah since the womb. They fought like crazy, and they loved like crazy, but once Delylah knew what happened, Victor knew she'd be lost.

"Do you regret being part of us?" Thomas seemed to read his thoughts as the ambulance fled into the night. His blue eyes were sad and broken as they stared at Victor. Nausea crept into his throat as he tried to focus. The EMT that rode with them noticed, and he flicked the loud overhead light down. Victor closed his eyes for a moment and tried to let the sick feeling pass.

"I don't know what you mean," Victor slurred. As he opened his eyes, he was relieved that the nauseated feeling passed.

"You're Delylah's person," Thomas said. He sounded like a little kid as he spoke. "Just like Hannah is Abel's person, and Will is my person. I can't imagine y'all apart. I would hate for you to leave now. I mean—Pop was right. You're family now."

Victor exhaled heavily. _Getting the shit beat outta you makes you a Teller._ He wanted to laugh, but he realized how serious Thomas was, and a sobering realization hit: _Getting the shit beat outta me makes me a Teller. Funny, it never once made me a Sinclair._ The truth was, in the few weeks he'd been involved with Delylah, the Tellers had been more of family than his own family had been. He loved Delylah, but in the last few moments, he'd realized how much he could love Delylah's family too, if they'd just let him. He never realized he wanted a family until the Tellers offered the possibility of one.

"Victor?" Thomas' voice sounded distant as he tried to focus. "Are you okay?" Victor slowly nodded.

"Yeah," Victor replied. He didn't full realize he was speaking. "I'll be—I'll be alright." As he struggled to stay awake, he smiled. "I've got Delylah" he mumbled. "And I thought that was more than-enough. Then you call me family."

Thomas felt a lump in his throat as Victor struggled between staying conscious and sleeping. Thomas knew Victor had no idea what he was saying. The wounds in his head had essentially made him drunk. _Drunk words are sober thoughts,_ Thomas thought silently. A sweet smile played on his lips as he drifted in and out of slumber.

"I'm not going anywhere, Thomas," he mumbled over and over. "I love Delylah. And I'm staying."


	28. Chapter 28

Tara stood outside of Valley Memorial Hospital, phone in hand. It had been over an hour since Jax called her, and it took every single drop of resolve she had not to lose her mind. She shivered in the late July night. She was vaguely surprised by the slight chill in the air; maybe Autumn would come early this year. It was Tara's favorite season. A true California girl, Tara only experienced Fall during her residency in Chicago. She'd fallen in love with the season. Part of her longed for it. _Maybe my life will be fixed by then._

Tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered the morning Chibs re-entered their lives. What a difference the last few weeks had made; gone was the hopeful Tara Knowles Teller, anxious for what the future would bring. Then, she was a soccer mom facing empty nest syndrome. Now, she was hovering somewhere between Old Lady and Grandma. Her daughter was now missing, as was her daughter-in-law. She knew now that Lucius was the one responsible for Ophelia's kidnapping, and she was certain he was behind Hannah's disappearance as well.

Her heart felt heavy. Her soul ached for her suburban lifestyle. She longed for school days and holidays, times with her children that weren't caught up with the words _kidnapping_ or _murder._ She closed her eyes and envisioned them little again; the memories would warm her bruised and battered psyche as she tried to come to terms with her daughter's violent abduction.

 _I knew this was going to happen,_ Tara thought. _I knew that I couldn't keep them safe._ She knew she should have never let Ophelia go to the house alone, but she also knew what it was like to be trapped in a life she hated. Opie was so much like Tara, more than even Tara realized. She craved stability. When SAMCRO barreled into their world, all the stability was lost, and when people started dying and started vanishing, Opie became captive. When Opie became captive, she rebelled. Tara did the same, and that's why she relented and let her daughter travel alone.

 _Age has made you complacent._ Her conscience railed against her. The guilt that penetrated her mind beat her down over and over. _You should have known better. The Tara of eighteen years ago would have never let Opie go alone. Ever._

A flash of blue and red lights illuminated the parking lot and bounced off Tara's skin. The ambulance had arrived with Thomas' car in tow. Tara was surprised that Jax drove the convertible; she knew how much he hated it. As Jax parked the car, Tara watched the ambulance stop in front of the emergency room entrance. The driver killed the engine and flicked off the lights. He stepped out and opened the back doors. Tara saw Thomas step out first, then another EMT followed suit. As Thomas walked towards Tara, the EMTs carefully pulled Victor's gurney out.

Tara gasped when she saw him. The white sheets were soaked with blood. Victor's dark eyes were hooded and tired. There were prominent dark circles beneath him, and he looked pale. Tara knew the young man had lost a lot of blood; that was more than evident in his almost colorless lips. By this time, Thomas was at Tara's side, as was Jax.

"I can't believe those responders agreed to bring Victor here," Tara whispered, annoyed. With a head trauma like Victor's, time was of the essence. While Tara knew Jax's heart was in the right place, his brain simply wasn't functioning. As much as she hurt like Jax did, Victor needed more immediate care.

"It'll be easier for Delylah," Jax stated. His voice was gravelly and tired. His blue eyes were painful to stare at. "Does she know yet?"

Tara shook her head in the negative. "No. She knows nothing at all. I figured the three of us would tell her together. Soften the blow." Tara couldn't believe how clinical she sounded. It'd been a few hours since Ophelia disappeared. She should have been a wreck. She should have been freaking out and worrying, but a strange calm blanketed her. It could've been the Xanax she popped after breaking down in the bathroom, but Tara also realized it could've been shock rearing its ugly head. A combination of both would render anyone apathetic.

Jax encircled his arm around his wife's waist. Thomas stared at them. It was truly a miracle his parents lasted as long as they did. He'd conversed with Tig and with Venus and with Althea; bikers didn't have a love like that. In the few stories each person told, Thomas realized how blessed Jax and Tara really were. They'd just narrowly escaped prison and death. They got out in just enough time—Thomas knew he wouldn't be alive without that decision. The realization of it all was humbling.

"I can't believe this is happening," Tara mumbled. "It's so fucking surreal. I thought we were done with this, Jax."

"I know," Jax guiltily replied. "I promised to keep you safe. For the last eighteen years, I have kept it. Now, everything is falling apart, and none of us are safe. I fucking hate it."

"My only question is why." Thomas voice crackled as he spoke. "Why now? Why us?"

Jax shook his head. There was no good answer. There were lots of theories, but until some sort of concrete proof reared its head, there was nothing he could do.

"Why Lucius?" Thomas asked. The thought raced through Jax's mind throughout the entire drive to the hospital. The boy had been with his garage for almost three years, and for all intents and purposes, he didn't realize how long Ophelia and Lucius had been together. A loner from the start, Jax had felt for the boy he'd hired.

"You're only seventeen," he'd told Lucius during his first employment interview. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead," Lucius said simply. He didn't offer any details at the time, nor did Jax ask for any. "My father died when I was younger, and my mom just died last year. Heroin overdose."

At the time, Jax's heart went out to the boy. He couldn't imagine being alone at such a young age. Even though Jax's own upbringing was tainted with biker blowouts and constant run-ins with the law, Gemma had always been devoted to him. It was a sick, power-hungry devotion, but Jax never once doubted his mother's love. From the look on Lucius' face, Jax knew that Lucius' mother didn't give a damn about the life she'd created.

Jax hired Lucius on the spot. As time passed, Jax learned that the young man had managed to rent a room in an old Victorian house on the edge of town. It was a modest place, to say the least, but it was a place where Lucius could lay his head. Jax also learned that the young man was a phenomenal mechanic; he was able to take even the most complicated vehicle apart. Two years after his hire, Jax promoted the orphaned kid to Manager, and it was then that Lucius was able to rent a small, one bedroom house. Jax remembered being proud of Lucius' progress.

Now, standing in front of the hospital, watching Victor Sinclair being wheeled in, Jax realized he'd made a grave mistake. Anxiety and regret roiled in his belly as he shuffled through his memory; he tried to pinpoint a moment where he would've known what Lucius was really after. He couldn't put a finger on any one event; in fact, Lucius had, essentially, become a part of the family, especially when he became involved with Opie.

"There's no way you could've known about this." Tara comforted him. She placed her hand in Jax's and squeezed. "I didn't even put two and two together until tonight. That kid is an amazing, calculated liar."

"It still doesn't answer any questions, Pop." Thomas' voice was tight as Jax and Tara turned their eyes to him. "I mean, is Lucius part of a bigger plan? I mean, Hannah is missing, and now Opie is too. I know y'all kept thinking Chibs' murder was because of the Irish—does this mean Lucius is one of them too?"

"I don't see how they _couldn't_ be related," Jax admitted. He'd been thinking about it the entire ride in. Despite his almost two decade absence, Jax was still too educated in street life to ignore the obvious. Lucius couldn't have acted alone. This was far too well-constructed of a plan to be Lucius' alone. Besides that, Jax couldn't think of a reason why Lucius would hate them—it was more than apparent that the young man had been coached to hurt the Tellers in the worst ways possible.

Tara nodded in understanding. When Jax called and told her the news, she knew the truth just as he had. There was no way in hell he'd gathered enough anger and hatred in the three years he'd known them to commit such horrible, heinous crimes.

"There you are," Delylah's voice cut through the humid night. Jax, Tara, and Thomas turned and watched as she walked towards them. She was dressed in an ankle length, peacock blue skirt and a creamy, off-white v-neck tee, she looked far prettier than she needed to for the hospital. Her long, dark hair was tied in a messy bun. She looked far older than eighteen, but Tara didn't know if that was a result of her style or her relationship with Victor. Hannah's brother had dramatically changed her wild child daughter. Despite their entire world falling apart, Tara had never seen her daughter more comfortable with herself. Tara knew that, as soon as Delylah knew exactly what happened, that calm would burst into flames.

"Did you find Op?" Delylah hadn't even made it to her brother and her parents before the question was out of her mouth. To say that she'd been worried was an understatement.

"Victor found her," Thomas truthfully admitted.

"Was she with Lucius?" Delylah asked. Thomas nodded. She fought back the words _I told you so_ as she stared at them. "What did Victor do to him?" Delylah had no doubt in her mind that her beloved taught Ophelia's bastard boyfriend a much needed lesson. He was just as protective over Opie as she was. As she was met with silence, her eyebrow furrowed in confusion. Thomas reached out and grabbed her hand. Delylah's body reacted before her brain registered the gesture. She trembled as Jax and Tara moved closer to her.

"Victor got there before us," Thomas shakily whispered. "I guess you got him before Mama could get ahold of Pop. When he got there, he found Opie—" Thomas' voice choked off, but he cleared his throat and continued. "In her own blood. It was everywhere, Lala. Everywhere." Thomas' lips quivered with the memory.

"Lucius hurt her?" Delyah's voice edged on hysteria. "I hope Victor killed the sonofabitch."

"Victor found Opie in the kitchen," Thomas continued on, not acknowledging Delylah's words. "When he described her—" Thomas shivered. "He said her nose was shattered. Her eyes were swollen shut. When he went to help her, to take her and get her help, he was hit." Delylah stood stock still, unmoving. Tara fought back tears as she grasped her daughter's hand. Thomas wasn't even sure she was breathing as he continued to speak. "The EMTs said his injuries were a result of blunt force trauma to the back of the head. The cops were still searching for what Lucius must've used when we left."

"Is Victor-?" Lala didn't want to finish the question. She couldn't handle using the word _dead_ in the same sentence as her lover's name. Thomas, to her relief, shook her head in the negative.

"He's got a killer gash in the back of his head," Jax stated. "I wouldn't be surprised if he needed surgery, but he's gonna be alright, honey." Another wave of relief washed over Delylah's features, but her eyes filled with tears.

"Where's Opie?" she asked. "Is she here now, too?" Delylah couldn't imagine having both her sister and brother in the same ICU. She became dizzy with the thought. The world felt like it was spinning out of control with every revelation that occurred. Once again, an upheaval took place within her soul, and she couldn't explain it. Nothing made sense.

"When Victor got knocked out, Lucius grabbed Opie," Thomas whispered.

"She's gone?" Delylah croaked. "Like Hannah? Just—"

"Gone," Tara finished. The shock of it all had kept Tara somewhat together, but now, as she watched Ophelia's twin fully understand the gravity of everything, reality crashed upon her as well. Her daughter was gone, and Lucius took her. Just like he did with Hannah. Tara had no idea when—or if—she'd see Ophelia again. The truth of it all was almost too much to bear. Tears began flowing. Tara cried for her daughter-in-law, for the sweet baby she carried; she cried for her beautiful Ophelia, a girl named after a man that sacrificed his life for SAMCRO. She cried for Victor's wounds. She even allowed a couple of tears to flow for Lucius—for the boy she knew. Tara knew he'd been born with a good heart, but now, as she wept, she wondered what happened to it. She watched as Delylah began to comprehend it all.

At first, Delylah stood in silence. Then, she began to cry. The tears fell quietly, but as they flowed down her cheeks, sobs began to erupt from her throat. Suddenly, Delylah was wailing and trembling, and she was almost unable to stand as she fully understood her twin had all but disappeared. Her knees buckled as she fell towards the ground, but Thomas and Jax were quick to catch her before she completely collapsed. A hollow scream burst from her as Jax and Tara pulled her close. Peel after peel echoed in the hazy North Carolina night.

Victor heard her. The tight, curtained emergency room bay they'd pushed him to was located by the entrance, and he could clearly hear Delylah's screams. Tears filled his eyes as an auburn haired nurse started an IV with ease. His entire body called to her, even though his mind clouded with pain. His head was screaming in agony, echoing his lover's emotional pain. His thoughts were cloudy as he vaguely heard the doctor giving orders.

"Mr. Sinclair, I'm Dr. Matthews," he heard the voice as the nurse pushed medicine into his veins. As he fell into a drug-induced haze, he still focused on Delylah's screams. His thoughts were only of her as he sank into unconsciousness. "You're gonna be okay."

 _Okay._ The word sounded so foreign and strange to him now. Delylah wasn't going to be okay—even though he knew she loved him, the love Delylah had for Ophelia was of a different kind. Theirs was a bond that developed before they even came into the world, and Victor knew that if Ophelia wasn't alive, Delylah wouldn't be long for this world either.

"I'll find her," Victor vowed as he fell into peaceful oblivion. Thoughts of Ophelia, of Hannah, of Delylah plagued his memory. They all raced through his mind before he fell asleep.

Outside, Delylah stood amongst her family members, finding comfort in her mother's arms. Tara whispered in Delylah's ear, but her voice was so low, even Jax didn't know what she said. Thomas, still visibly shaken, stepped away from the fray, phone in hand. _Will is probably worried sick,_ he thought as he dialed his partner's number. Jax watched his younger son as he held on to the only two women left in his life. Just beyond the emergency room doors, Victor was cared for. Abel was upstairs, still in ICU, fighting for his life. Jax's entire family was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do.

There was only one other time he'd felt this kind of disconnect. _Charming_. The town blazed in his memory as he struggled to maintain his composure. _Mom is dead. We don't know who killed her. We have to find the killer._ It was as if the last eighteen years had never happened; he was back in his hometown, completely helpless. _Tara. Oh God, she's pregnant—twins._ Memories played on loop in his psyche, and he couldn't stop them. Flashes of his mother's house—of Tara and Gemma covered in blood—he couldn't escape them; if anything, they intermingled with the scene from the kitchen tonight—Victor's dark, hooded eyes staring painfully back at him. He was covered in both his and Ophelia's blood. There was once a time where Jax thought bullet holes and gaping wounds were long forgotten, but with both Hannah and Opie missing, evil had once again made itself known.

 _Most of us were not violent by nature. We all had our problems with authority, but none of us were sociopaths. We came to realize that when you move your life off the social gird, you give up on the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rule of law, and if you're a man of convictions, violence is inevitable._

 _JT. It all began with you_. Jax's thoughts shifted towards his father now. The words from his journals played on repeat in his brain. It didn't surprise him that JT's words came to him now, when he needed them most. Jax's mind still worked that way, it still sought the truth his father sought. The last eighteen years had left him comfortable, detached from the chaos. _I should have known better_ , he thought. _A man like me can't escape. It's my birthright. My fate. My destiny._

Tonight, he would make sure his wife and kids were settled. Tonight, he'd make sure they were safe. Then, he and Tig would leave the hospital. _Fuck the cops,_ he thought as he clenched his teeth. _By the time they find Opie and Hannah, they will be dead._ He couldn't wait for society anymore. He trusted WitSec, and they'd failed miserably. He couldn't trust anymore. He had to find the truth himself.

He thought of Lucius, and his blood boiled. _It's the ultimate betrayal,_ Jax thought. _And I know you're not alone._ Jax knew the Irish had their hands in this mess. He knew that he would have to go to war to get the girls back. _After all,_ his mind reasoned, _I am my father's son. He kept me safe. He tried to keep me free._ Jax stood a little straighter as thoughts of vengeance flooded his veins. Plans for Lucius' torture resonated within his gut, and even though he knew violence wasn't the answer in proper society, he also knew that SAMCRO had never been proper. An eye for an eye was how he needed to work. A small semblance of peace filled him as his old ways began to sink back in. _JT was a man of convictions._ The realization felt good. 

_And when you're a man of convictions, a man like me, then violence is inevitable._


	29. Chapter 29

_Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy; it does not boast, and it is not proud. It is not rude; it is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil; it rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always perseveres. Love never fails._

Growing up, Will Latrie heard those words often. It was his Grandmere Bette's favorite Bible verse. It was now Will's favorite verse too, and almost sixteen years after her death, he held onto the memory of her—and her words—like a security blanket. After all, her words were truthful; his upbringing alone was a testament of that fact.

Will couldn't help but think of it, especially as he rolled over and stared at Thomas, who slept by his side. Will was thankful for the peaceful look on Thomas' face. It had been days since he'd slept so well. Ophelia's kidnapping and Victor's assault, combined with Hannah's abduction and Abel's still comatose state had really messed with Thomas. Rest did not come easy to the younger Teller brother, but as Will stared at him, he knew that the beautiful, blonde kid he'd met four years prior had now finally came into his own. Will couldn't imagine his life without him. Forever with Thomas Teller sounded amazing.

Will was careful as he slid out of bed. Muted sunlight flooded the room. Huge gray clouds had all but eclipsed the light, but Will welcomed it. He wasn't a huge fan of sunshine; if anything, he liked the feeling of shadows. He was quiet as he slid on sweatpants and a shirt, and slowly, he walked out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.

The smell of bacon wafted into his nose, and he smiled. _Venus._ She was an incredible woman. She reminded Will a lot of his grandmother. Her sweet spirit, gentle heart, and beautiful smile had kept Will strong for Thomas. It was no secret that Thomas was once a ticking time bomb, unsure of himself and his place within his family. When he was Luke Morgan, Thomas was a moody, sage drifter. His soul was always wild and untamed, especially when he felt like he didn't belong. That Thomas was gone.

In his place was a dedicated, family oriented savage. Will had been the one to lay awake waiting for Thomas to return home, which he always did. There hadn't been a day that passed where Thomas didn't seek out his beloved. Everything for the Tellers was life or death at this point, but Thomas always managed to make Will feel loved, and Will returned that love. It simply wasn't his nature to go to war, but Will understood that it was Thomas'. Will expressed his devotion in his own ways.

He'd trekked back and forth to the hospital with Venus, giving Tara and Althea much needed breaks. He brought changes of clothes for Delylah, who split her time between Victor and Abel's bedsides. The hulking Marine ended up needing surgery, just as Jax had predicted, so Delylah could count on one hand the number of times she'd been home within the last two weeks. As much as Will didn't understand the Tellers' past or present, he prayed like hell he'd part of their future. He'd never seen a more devoted or loving family.

Will's feet barely grazed the cabin's stairs as he made his way down to breakfast. Venus was already dressed for the day; she wore a simple deep purple sun dress that highlighted her beautifully bronzed skin. Her honey colored tresses were perfectly coiffed, as always. The soft waves bounced around her pretty face. Will marveled at her expertly applied makeup as he glanced at the microwave clock. _7:15._ It took everything he had to simply roll out of bed and show up at the breakfast table, and this woman was exquisitely dressed and preparing breakfast, without batting a perfectly curled eyelash.

"Good morning," she chirped. She slid a plate in his direction as he grabbed a stool and sat at the counter. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have since we got here," Will answered. He didn't sleep well when Thomas was gone, and while his love managed to see and spend time with him every single day, there were many nights where he was off with Jax, trying to find answers. Last night had been the first time in over a week that he and Thomas shared a bed.

"It always helps when the one you love is next to you," Venus said. She had become an expert sleeping alone throughout the years. There had been many nights where Tig would join Chibs in overnight expeditions, and Venus had learned to sleep without her husband, even if she hated it. "I know when Alex is home, I am a much happier lady."

Will nodded as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Venus poured the young man a large cup of coffee and placed it in front of him. Will lifted the cup to his lips and closed his eyes as he drank from it. Venus smiled with the knowledge that she'd gotten it right. Will was an easy soul to understand, and an easier one to read. Venus was grateful for his presence; it broke the doldrums of being alone or being at the hospital.

"You ready for today?" she asked Will as he placed the cup on the marble counter top. Will nodded.

"Yeah," he replied. "It'll be good to get Victor here. I know Delylah will be a little more relieved." After almost two weeks in the hospital, Victor had finally been given a clean bill of health and was being permitted to return to the cabin. He was supposed to be on strict bedrest, but Will knew the headstrong soldier would insist upon joining Thomas, Tig, and Jax in their search for the truth.

"I will be too," Venus admitted. "That Lucius really messed him up." Will watched as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Unlike Will, who took his coffee with lots of cream and sugar, Venus drank hers black. Will stiffened at the mention of Lucius' name. He still couldn't believe the kid that attended Abel and Hannah's wedding was the same person that split Victor's skull open. He also couldn't believe the possibility of Lucius beating the hell out of Ophelia. All of it had been shocking.

"Did Thomas mention any new leads?" Venus asked. They'd been searching for so long, both alone and with law enforcement, but nothing regarding the girls' whereabouts had been found. It was as if they'd completely disappeared. It was a source of great frustration for Jax, Tig, and Thomas. Althea had become more involved, enlisting the aid of the Feds in finding them, to no avail.

They were now, with the help of Jack Petty and undercover federal agents, searching day and night for the Teller girls. The missing young women were the talk of the small town. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was a matter of time before it became statewide news, and Will knew that, once that happened, it would be much more difficult to search for Hannah and Ophelia.

"No," Will said softly. "There's been nothing." His mind whispered the words Will simply couldn't say. _All signs are pointing to them being dead._ It had now been almost a month since Hannah's abduction, and there wasn't a trace of Abel's wife to be found. Almost two weeks had passed since Lucius took Ophelia away, and neither one of them were any closer to being found. A brief flicker of fear passed through Venus' eyes as she nibbled on a piece of toast.

"Did Thomas tell you I was coming too?" she asked, quickly changing the subject. Will nodded.

"Yeah," he answered. "He mentioned it. With Delylah here, Tara is going to need someone with her." Will and Thomas would only be able to do so much now. They would have to split time between the cabin and hospital until Victor was completely healed. As it stood, Hannah's soldier brother was damned lucky to be alive. Jack's investigation had uncovered a bloodied rolling pin. Thomas knew it well. It was heavy black Italian marble, and Tara never once used it for cooking. It was too pretty to use, she'd said.

"I'm just glad he made it through surgery," Venus said softly. "He was in rough shape. That surgeon did an amazing job."

"Yeah, I was surprised that Dr. Sinclair even bothered to help his kid. Pulling strings and getting a neurosurgeon to fly in from Atlanta—" Will paused and sipped his coffee—"Shocked the hell outta Jax and Tara. Hell, it shocked all of us."

Venus nodded, secretly pleased at Dr. Sinclair's intervention. She didn't know the history between father and son, but she knew that there had to be love beneath all the anger and frustration. Deep down, Venus knew that Sarah Sinclair probably forced her husband's decision, but Venus also knew that, if James Sinclair was against something, it'd take hell and half of Georgia to get him to change his mind.

"But it still happened," Venus replied. "That means there's hope."

Will finished off his coffee, unsure of what to say. After witnessing the Sinclairs' strange relationship with their son, he felt that any move Dr. Sinclair made was from guilt. Where that guilt originated was anyone's guess.

"Hope for what?" Thomas' voice was low and crackly as he walked down the stairs. Dressed in loose red flannel pants and nothing else, Will could help but catch his breath. _God, you are gorgeous,_ he thought as Thomas padded across the hardwood floors. Slowly, he grabbed a barstool and sat by Will's side, planting a sweet kiss on his lover's cheek. Will responded by draping his arm across Thomas' smooth, broad shoulders. His skin felt cool against Will's touch, and Will delighted at the goosebumps that rose beneath his hand. _I love you,_ he thought. Thomas' beautiful blue eyes echoed the sentiment as they locked gazes. The desire between the two men was palpable, as was the love and adoration.

"You hungry, Tommy?" Venus asked. She was the only person, besides Tara, that could get away with calling Thomas _Tommy._ He couldn't explain why it was okay for Venus to use the childish nickname; all Thomas knew was peace when Venus said his name. There was a purity to her spirit that made Thomas feel at ease. As far as he was concerned, Venus could call him Tommy for the rest of his life.

"A little," Thomas lied. The truth was he was ravenous. For the first time in ages, he woke with an appetite. The smell of breakfast had lured him from sweet dreams, and even though Thomas fought to sleep just a few moments longer, bacon and eggs won the battle. Venus, somehow acutely aware of Thomas' moods, placed massive helpings of bacon and eggs onto one of Tara's pretty patterned plates. Once he began eating, Venus went to the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. Carefully pouring it into a tall glass, she passed it to Thomas, who smiled in thanks. _How does she know I hate coffee?_ He contemplated as he wolfed breakfast down. _You're quite the woman, Venus Trager,_ he thought.

"So what are we being hopeful about?" Thomas asked as he polished off the bacon.

"Dr. Sinclair," Venus offered. She watched Thomas' lips twist in disgust. It was no secret that Thomas hated Hannah and Victor's father.

"There's no hope for him," Thomas breathed. "Once a bastard, always a bastard."

"You can't deny him sending a surgeon to help Victor was a big deal," Venus returned. Even though Venus had known true evil through her mother's child porn business, it still didn't dampen her hopes for humanity. Thomas knew the story, and he still couldn't understand how the woman standing before him could house such an open heart.

"It doesn't change anything," Thomas said, standing. "Hannah and Opie are still missing. Victor came within an inch of dying. Just because Sinclair's fancy, rich ass pulled a couple of strings doesn't mean he gives a damn about us." Venus knew she'd struck a nerve. Reaching out, Thomas scooped up the plates and took them to the sink. Flipping the water on, he began rinsing them off. Venus, knowing that the conversation had the potential to drift out of control, she excused herself and went upstairs. Using the excuse that she needed to get ready, she left Thomas and Will alone.

"Are you okay?" Will asked as Thomas loaded the dishwasher. The verse played in his head again. _Love is patient. Love is kind._

"I'm fine," Thomas replied.

"No, you're not," Will countered. He stood and walked over to Thomas. Winding his well-muscled arms around Thomas' chiseled torso, Will rested his chin on Thomas' shoulder. Thomas exhaled. After four years together, Will's intimate knowledge of his heart and soul shouldn't have taken him aback, but it did. Will knew every peak and valley of Thomas' emotions, and now was no exception. Turning off the water, Thomas turned and faced Will. Their faces were mere centimeters apart as they stared at one another.

"Tell me," Will pried, pulling Thomas closer. Unsure of what to say, Thomas just sank further into his partner's embrace. Unable to help himself, he rested his head on Will's shoulder. Thomas could feel tears collecting behind his eyelids, but there was something within him that wouldn't allow them to fall.

"It's just too much," Thomas shakily whispered. _It does not envy; it does not boast, and it is not proud._

"I know, love," Will said quietly. Thomas was merely voicing everyone's fears.

"It's been too long. We should've heard something by now, right? Pop and Tig should have leads, and they just don't. Althea can't find anything, neither can the useless morons at Witness Protection. I can't believe how they have just dropped the ball. It's like no one cares but our family."

Will held Thomas. He had no idea how to make it better. He also knew that Thomas was right; they should have heard something by now. _All signs are pointing to murder, not kidnapping._ It was a bitter pill to swallow.

"What does that have to do with Dr. Sinclair?" Will asked.

"Nothing really," Thomas said. "I just hate the bastard, that's all. No one bothers me more." Thomas paused, sighing. "I just don't know why he's even around. He hasn't helped with Hannah, and no matter what Venus thinks, that whole surgeon thing wasn't an act of kindness; it was to get Sarah to shut the fuck up. He doesn't care about any of this. All he wants is for his life to go back to what it was before we—before the Tellers fucked it up." Will nodded in agreement. Slowly, carefully, he pulled slightly away from Thomas. Without a word or an argument, Will grazed Thomas' lips with his. Thomas, unable to help himself, allowed heady lust to overcome him. His hands twined in Will's thick curls as the kiss deepened.

"You should run," Thomas whispered as he gently pulled back. "You should run away and never look back, Will."

Shock flooded Will's eyes as he stepped backward, away from Thomas. At first, Will thought his lover was joking, but as he stared harder, he realized that Thomas was completely serious.

"Why the hell would I do that?" Will asked. _It is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs._

"Everything we touch seems to disappear," Thomas said. "First Hannah, then Opie. We don't know what's happened to them, or why it's happened. I love you too much to lose you. I don't want anything bad to happen. If I'm going to lose you, I'd rather lose you now. It'll hurt less."

"You're insane," Will said. "You're not going to lose me, Thomas. Not now, not ever." Thomas didn't look convinced. Will cradled Thomas' face in his hands. "I loved you before you were a Teller, you see that, right? You're not tainted, Thomas. Being a Teller doesn't change my love for you; if anything, it's made my love stronger."

"You wanna know what happened last night?" Thomas asked as he pulled his face from Will's tender grasp.

"You came home," Will responded. "You crawled into bed with me. I held you until we fell asleep."

"I dreamt of you," Thomas stated. "I dreamt of _us._ Happy, healthy. Together. With kids and everything. We were the goddamned American dream."

"What's so wrong with that?" Will asked. "I think it sounds amazing."

"It does sound amazing, but it was just a dream," Thomas returned. "When my eyes opened this morning, I knew it was all a goddamned dream."

"I don't under—"

"My mother woke this morning to my brother still in a coma-on a ventilator," Thomas interrupted. "My father woke to another day of searching for his daughter and daughter-in-law. Delylah has to watch Victor's long road to recovery. I just don't want you to be in any pain—pain you would only sustain because of me."

"I'm not leaving you, Thomas." Will was vehement. "I don't give a damn about the danger. I would gladly endure any kind of pain for you."

"You don't get it," Thomas said, shaking his head.

"No, _you_ don't get it, Teller," Will stated angrily. "I love you. I love you more than anyone I've ever known. You found me when I was broken and alone, and you saw past that. You loved me. And I love you for it. You can tell me to walk, but I won't. You're stuck with me for the long haul."

Thomas couldn't speak. His heart was full and breaking—all at the same time. He really didn't want Will to go, but he needed to hear Will say he wanted to stay. Still, it changed nothing. Hannah and Ophelia had all but vanished, and there was no trace of them to be seen. In the last couple of days, Thomas was shocked to realize that parts of him thought the worst—that both his sister and sister-in-law were dead.

Will pulled him closer and enveloped him in a loving, true embrace. Thomas reveled in the sensation as guilt settled within his soul. Thomas had never questioned Will's adoration; he only questioned his own strength. He didn't know if he could live without Will by his side. As they clutched one another, Thomas knew that he never wanted to find out. The thought was unbearable.

"I love you," Thomas jaggedly whispered. He was scared, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted what he'd dreamt of: the kids, the love, the peace.

 _Love does not delight in evil; it rejoices in the truth._

"I know, baby," Will responded. "I love you, too." He grabbed Thomas' hand, and they left the kitchen, mess forgotten. As they neared the stairs, Will turned to face Thomas. Staring intently into Thomas' blue eyes, Will knew he was whole. All Thomas had to do was trust it. A whole lifetime was there. All they had to do was grab it.

 _Love always protects. Love always trusts. Love always perseveres._

 _Love never fails._


	30. Chapter 30

"I am so sorry."

The words were whispered, but Ophelia heard them as she attempted to open her eyes. Still swollen and tight, they ached terribly as the dim lamp light pierced them. She didn't know how long she'd slept, nor did she remember exactly what happened, but she knew agony when she felt it, and her entire body screamed in pain. Carefully, she turned her head and focused on the voice by her side.

"Lucius," she croaked. A faint smile lit up her still swollen features. His green eyes lit up at the sound of his name. He couldn't believe what he'd done. It'd been a long time since he'd turned to violence, but when Opie appeared to be leaving, everything within him snapped. He never intended on hurting her; that had never been the plan. The plan was to apologize and beg forgiveness. Lucius had never once thought about what would happen if Ophelia turned away from his advances. He had never mastered being shut down, never mastered being ignored. It infuriated him.

"Hey there," he murmured back. He gently grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. To his surprise, she didn't recoil from his touch. Instead, she closed her eyes, content in the sensation of his lips on her skin. "I was wondering when you would come back to us."

"Where have I been?" Ophelia innocently asked. Her chest was tight as she tried to inhale; that's when she noticed the oxygen. The double-pronged tube pushed cold air into her nose. The IV made its presence known as she tried to lift her hand. As her eyes fully focused, she expected to see hospital walls staring back at her. Instead, she saw shimmering mahogany walls. The room was dark, and Opie had no idea if it was day or night, but it didn't matter. The slightest movement caused immeasurable pain, causing her eyes to tear.

"Are you hurting?" Lucius asked. Even as she nodded, he was on his feet, fiddling with the massive computerized medicine pump attached to her IV pole. Without a word, he pushed the buttons as Opie watched, and within seconds, she could feel sweet relief.

"Whatever that is," she whispered, "Keep it coming."

"Morphine," Lucius said. "Damned good pain killer, from what I understand." Ophelia smiled weakly, simply grateful for the release.

"Where am I?" she asked. "What happened?" Lucius blinked, hesitant to answer. _Do you really remember nothing?_ He gently grasped her hand. _How did I get that lucky?_

"What do you remember?" he asked. _Better to have her relay her truth than try to create one,_ he thought. _I'll fill in the blanks once I know._

"I remember leaving the hospital," she sleepily replied. "I was coming to see you."

"That's the last thing you recall?" he questioned. She closed her eyes, searching for the answers he sought. She saw the sunset. Beautiful hues of red, purple, and blue stretched across the horizon. The windows were down, and her beautiful copper curls flew in the breeze.

 _Don't ask me / What you know is true / Don't have to tell you / I love your precious heart—_ Tara's favorite INXS song played on Opie's radio. She sang along as she barreled down the highway. _I / I was standing / You were there / Two worlds collided / And they could never tear us apart—_

As the image ebbed away, Opie realized that's where the memory ended. Her brow knitted in confusion.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Lucius was dumbstruck by his good fortune. She shook her head slightly, but even that motion made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and let the nausea overcome her.

"I feel sick," she mumbled. Again, Lucius was on his feet. This time, he grabbed two vials and two syringes. Opie watched in confusion as he drew from each vial. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you anti-nausea medicine," he said calmly. There was no hesitation. "The Morphine will tear your stomach up. I'm giving you Phenergan. It'll curb the sick feeling."

"Since when are you a nurse?" Opie's sleepy eyes darted around the beautifully appointed room. The walls were dark, as was the furniture. She noticed the chair at the bedside—it was a massive black leather recliner. Opie knew she wasn't in a hospital, but she didn't know where the hell she was.

"You've been out for a long time, Op," Lucius said. It had been almost two weeks since he'd come within inches of killing her. "I didn't want anyone else caring for you. I watched the nurses. They taught me what to do. I've been watching your meds with their help. You're in good hands, trust me."

Lucius carefully grabbed her arm. Opie, unable to really think, much less question or fight, watched, fascinated. He attached the first syringe to the IV port.

"This is just saline," Lucius explained. "The Phenergan burns like a sonofabitch, so we flush before and after the dose."

Opie knew enough about the medical field to know that Lucius wasn't supposed to be dosing her. She also knew that no nurse would ever allow a laymen to administer meds. Hesitation and doubt flooded her brain as Lucius removed the saline syringe and attached the Phenergan.

"This is going to burn babe," he warned. "I'm going to go slow." The Morphine had made her eyelids droop slightly, but she fought against it.

"Damn," she was breathless as the horrible burning ache took effect. Her hand was on fire. Despite her numerous injuries, the pain from the Phenergan was awful. She exhaled in an attempt to stay calm.

"Shh," Lucius whispered. "It's almost over." He removed the Phenergan and reattached the saline syringe, flushing the IV again. To Ophelia's relief, the savage ache subsided.

"Wha—what happened to me?" she drowsily questioned. "Where am I?"

"You were in an accident," Lucius smoothly lied. "The police said you were run off the road just outside your parents' house."

 _That doesn't make sense,_ Opie thought, but her mind was in a drug-induced haze. She had no energy to question or argue. She just accepted what Lucius said.

"But—"

"Your parents showed up at the house," he continued. "They were worried. They didn't know where you were. I was waiting for you."

"Did Daddy try to kill you?" she lazily drawled. "Is that where the shiner came from?" Lucius gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye. _That's a different story altogether._ Instead of volunteering information, he focused on Opie's face. The Phenergan had mixed with the Morphine, leaving Ophelia happily exhausted and pain-free. The nausea subsided. Her blue eyes, still somewhat swollen, were bleary as she stared at him.

"He wanted to," Lucius stated, sidestepping the full truth. He knew that wasn't a lie. He knew that, if Jax Teller found him, he'd be as good as dead. The plan was to leave the United States before that could happen. Lucius stared at Ophelia. _What a fucking mistake I made,_ he thought. _I almost blew everything._

"Why didn't he?" Opie questioned. She didn't remember their conversation. She still wondered why he disappeared. To her, she was still wondering why Lucius, who professed to love her so deeply, just disappeared. The hurt of it was dulled by the drugs, but her mind, ever bright and constantly seeking truth, screamed at her to pay attention. Lucius' drug cocktail was stronger. It was winning.

"The cops saved my ass," he murmured. "They showed up just after Jax and Tara did. They were there to notify someone about you."

 _Why wouldn't they go to the hospital?_ Opie's mind sluggishly demanded. _Or the cabin? Why the house?_ Again, the story didn't add up, but again, the drugs jumbled everything anyway.

"How did I get here?" Opie asked. Her voice was thick with narcotics. "Just where am I, exactly?"

Lucius' heart pounded. Even in her broken state, she was still able to discern fact from fiction. _I have to tell her the truth,_ he thought. _She's going to know I am lying anyway, right?_ Lucius watched Ophelia's eyes as they slowly closed.

"I mean—" she whispered as she drifted off to sleep. Lucius breathed a sigh of relief as she drifted off into a drug-induced stupor. He sat heavily on the large, black recliner and placed his face in his hands.

 _This is my fault. All my fucking fault._ The words played on repeat as he heard the door unlatch. He didn't even look up. The sound of cowboy boots hitting the hardwood floor barely echoed.

"Do you always fucking tiptoe?" Lucius asked. Looking up, he caught the black matte metal of a 9mm and the glimmer of a badge.

"God, she looks like Trinity." Jack Petty's voice was as gentle as his footsteps. Dressed in his all black uniform, his boots were merely a fascinating accessory. Lucius wondered if the footwear was even allowed, but given Jack's long affiliation with the Silver Spring PD, Lucius knew that no one gave a damn about the officer's fashion choices. "How is she doing?"

"She woke up." Lucius' voice was shaky as he spoke. He hadn't really expected her to ask any questions. He'd never been good at making shit up on the fly; the lies he'd grown accustomed to telling had been fed to him, and the stories were perfectly rehearsed. Every move he'd made since arriving in Silver Spring, since interviewing with Jax Teller, had been expertly choreographed.

"Did she remember anything?" Petty asked.

"No," Lucius answered.

"You're fucking lucky," the officer plainly stated. "Lucky I didn't fucking kill you. This wasn't part of the plan, man."

"I know," Lucius replied. His fingers tapped impatiently at his leg. His jaw was clenched in annoyance as his beautiful green eyes flashed in the older man's direction. "I've heard this lecture a million times. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

Lucius' answer came by way of Jack Petty's 9mm being pointed at his head. He could feel the cold metal of the barrel against his temple, and he choked back the remaining words.

"As many times as it takes," Petty fired back. "Unless you want to fucking die."

"I—I'm sorry," Lucius stammered. His hands now gripped supple leather. "I didn't mean any disrespect, Jack. I didn't. I feel horrible for what happened."

"You have quite the mouth, considering everything I have done for you," Jack said. He didn't move a muscle as spoke. The gun was still pressed tight against his soft flesh. "You wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for me. You'd still be in that goddamned orphanage if I hadn't intervened."

Lucius closed his eyes. He knew he'd struck a nerve. Jack managed to keep his Irish brogue in check the vast majority of the time; it had impressed Lucius on many occasions; however, extreme emotion brought it back in full force. It didn't matter if Jack was happy or angry, if it pulled at his heartstrings enough, the Irish was thick.

Even in his precarious life or death situation, Lucius marveled at how easy it was for the older man to switch back and forth. It had taken Lucius a straight year of elocution lessons to get his _American_ sound right. He'd never gone back to the Gaelic lilt; he knew it would blow his cover, because he simply couldn't go between the two.

"I know, Jack, I know," Lucius said. He was trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm sorry. I just hate fucking up, and Opie was a _giant_ fuck up. I know how bad this is."

Jack lowered the gun. Lucius couldn't help the relieved tears that fell down his face. Guilt was a heavy thing to bear. He hated himself for beating Ophelia, and that hatred led him to mouth off to Jack, the one man who cared for him when no one else did. His brilliant peridot eyes blinked heavily as he looked at Jack. Regardless of everything, Lucius considered Jack the father he'd never had.

"Nothing has been done that cannot be undone," Jack whispered. Deep down, he loved the kid. It was times like these where Jack couldn't help but remember the kid he'd first encountered. If he closed his eyes, he saw Lucius, all of five years old, staring helplessly up at him. He sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Lucius shoulder. "I've got the Tellers covered for now. I've given leads that'll never amount to anything. That buys time while Opie heals. By then, we will know what to do about this unaccepted hiccup."

Lucius mutely nodded. The self-loathing was palpable as he focused his gaze on Ophelia's heavily drugged form.

"Until then, keep Ophelia as drugged as you can," Jack instructed. "We can't allow her to have a clear memory. It'll be the goddamned death of us. We can't afford any more fuck ups, Lucius. Next time—"

"There won't be a next time," Lucius brokenly stated.

"You don't know that," Jack replied, shoving his gun in his holster. "But know this: If there is a next time, you won't survive to make another mistake."

"I know." Lucius' voice was almost inaudible. "I know how long you've been working on this. We can't go back now—and I wouldn't, not even if I wanted to."

Lucius turned and looked up the old man. _You saved my life. I won't let you down. I promise._

The faint smile that crossed Jack's lips gave Lucius the validation he needed. As he turned his eyes back to Ophelia, he knew that now, more than ever, he needed to focus. Eighteen years of planning and plotting and intel couldn't just be lost.

 _I have a second chance. I can't fuck this up. I have put way too much in to have it go south in the eleventh hour._ At the end of the day, he knew he was doing the right thing. He realized that the end of this game would be the death of Jax and family, and he also realized exactly how much blood would be on his hands.

 _I can't allow this to break me. I have to return the favor, no matter what. Jack has put too much into me for this not to work. I have to stay with the plan. I have to make this work. Jack wouldn't have brought me here if he didn't believe me. I have to do this._

Jack didn't speak as he left the room. Once Lucius heard the door shut, he exhaled. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he let them fall; soon they turned to sobs. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Fate hadn't intervened.

 _I'd be dead,_ he thought as he stood. _Not that it matters, there's no surviving in this life_. He knew that once his purpose was served, he would be cast aside. He went back to the IV pole, opened the case, and administered another small dose of Morphine.

 _That should keep her quiet._ Closing the pump's lockable door, he cast one last glance on Opie. She was lost in peaceful dreams. He walked across the room, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. Locking the door behind him, he knew that it wasn't just the Tellers' death that eminent, it was his as well.


	31. Chapter 31

The sun hadn't risen yet. James Sinclair loved the quiet before patients showed up; he always had. He would often come in long before his staff, just to relish the solitude.

James Sinclair sat in the heavy leather chair behind his desk—it had been a gift from Sarah years ago—when his primary care practice first opened. Hannah had been a toddler when he first began accepting patients. He couldn't believe that twenty years had passed since then. His eyes rested on an old, faded picture of his family. Carefully, he grasped the silver framed photograph. Hannah sat on his lap, smiling brightly. Sarah sat to his left, also smiling, but it just wasn't the same. Hannah's smile illuminated her entire face; her eyes lit with laughter and contentment. Sarah just didn't have the same light.

 _That faded long ago_ , Dr. Sinclair thought sadly. _And it's all my fault._ His eyes couldn't help but drift to Victor. The little boy sat at Sarah's side. His dark eyes were identical to his mother's: dark, searching, and sad. Unlike his mother, the boy didn't even try to force a smile. James traced the lines of his son's face as regret filled him. _I had to make you this way, son._ His own dark eyes filled with tears. _It was never my intention. I made you into a soldier._ The tears began to fall down his cheeks. _Just not into the soldier you were intended to be._

Carefully, he pushed the reminder away and buried his face in his hands. Victor would be released from the hospital today. His heart both swelled and broke as he thought of his only son. _What I wouldn't give for you to know the truth,_ he thought. _What I wouldn't give for you to understand._ He dropped his hands. One laid flat on the desk, and the other reached for his desk drawer. Slowly, he opened it. His fingers reached blindly within. Gliding across the weathered, smooth wood, he found the cut out, and carefully, he pulled the wood away. He sighed as he found what he sought.

 _Ah, there you are._ He smiled as he pulled the creamy, well-read pages from the secret compartment. The script that jumped out at him was comforting and beautiful. The well-rounded, almost perfect cursive had faded over the years, but he marveled at how well they had held up. There had been many times over the years that he turned to her words—he needed her that first night back home, just after Hannah's first steps. He needed her when he fought with Sarah, and those fights were fast, furious, and earth-shattering in the beginning. He needed them when he had to be the man he never wanted to be—and he certainly needed her when he turned into the monster Victor had nightmares about.

 _My beloved James,_

 _I hope this letter finds you. I don't know if it will, because I know how your wife's family works. Unfortunately, I know it all too well. I have known them my entire life, even though I've only hated them for half of it. They are a brutal disaster of a family, and I wish that you'd never walked into their orbit—but if it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have walked into mine._

James' eyes overflowed again. His fingers shook as he grabbed a tissue from the silver plated box on his desk. He was careful to wipe his fingers dry as he brought them back to the paper. He didn't want to taint the magic of her final letter to him. There had been precious few he'd managed to save, but he'd hidden them around the house and here, at his office, even in his car. It was like he was betraying Sarah all over again, but as of late, that didn't bother him. The hatred he'd pushed down over the last two decades had reared its ugly head over and over again. That's what led him here—alone, before the patients came and asked about his missing daughter, before the nurses whispered about him not visiting Victor. He turned to her words. They just made sense.

 _I know what's happening. I know that I'm working on borrowed time. These four walls are closing in on me, and I know that, once my purpose is served, I'll be dead. I know that you think they will have mercy on me, on us, and I will be free, but if you listen to your logic, you will know that isn't possible. If I am free, I will find you. I wouldn't be able to help myself. I love you more now than I did before, James, if that is possible. I know that truth._

 _I know it as I know our child's name. She is a girl, you know. You can't tell me any different. She moves within me, and I rejoice in it. She brings me happiness in the depths of all the fear and the sorrow. I worry about her, just as I worry about the child that resides outside these four walls. She is my only regret._

James sucked his breath in. Those words always ached within his chest. Guilt had been a hellish foe over the years, in many ways, but he had to remember that the love of his life had a life before him. He closed his eyes. _God, Hannah looks like her._ His mind drifted to his daughter's dark, voluminous curls, her beautiful gray eyes, and his heart all but stopped. _Hannah is her fucking twin._

 _Don't misunderstand me, James. I will never regret my firstborn baby girl, but I do regret leaving her basically orphaned. Yes, I know her father lives on, but he isn't here. He never really has been. When I am gone, I will rely on him to find her a home, but I know that will never be with him. I know I could have done better for her, but I stupidly thought that our love could conquer anything—even the Irish Kings. I should have known better._

He placed the letter on the mahogany desk and flipped the page. His tears had dried, but his heart, once more, felt like it would shatter in two.

 _I should have known that this love, no matter how strong it is, cannot conquer this kind of evil—at least, not now. It needs someone stronger, someone with less to lose. You have Victor. I have my little girl, and our daughter. No matter how much I love you, and no matter how much you love me, we love them more._

James always fought the urge to crumple the beautiful, old stationary. He hated those words more than anything. Yes, he loved his children, but he loved her just as much. Still, he knew the hell that awaited had he not complied. He clenched an angry fist, but he continued, nodding his head as he read.

 _Our daughter is jumping in my belly as I write this. Tonight, I will focus on her. I will rub this massive stomach of mine, and I will dream that it is your hand touching me. I will focus on the life we could have given her, had we been able to escape this insanity. I will dream of her and Victor growing up together, and I will dream of my sweet girls meeting one another. I will hope and pray for a miracle, but I will do everything I can to stay calm. For her, for me, for you, for the kids._

 _I thought I'd known love before, but I realize that I hadn't. Those past loves were merely practice for you. I don't regret falling. I don't regret holding on to everything we could possibly have together. I don't regret holding on to hope. In this last month before our baby is born, and my life is gone, I will take comfort in the fact that I've not just been loved—I've been adored and praised. I've been worshipped._

James swallowed hard and fought any additional tears that fell from his eyes. He didn't know exactly how he'd survived her loss. He couldn't remember that far back, and even if he could, that time was such a blur that details were sketchy at times, at best. All he could remember was the heavy, palpable agony of her loss. Even as the years had passed them by, and he forced Victor away, he still took comfort in knowing Hannah was safe. As long as she was okay, he knew that the last twenty years hadn't been a waste. The Irish Kings had kept their promise, a promise made the minute Hannah took her first breath, and her mother took her last. Until now.

Now, she had all but vanished, and he knew the Kings were the reason. _But why?_ His brain screamed. _I've complied with every fucking instruction. I've done everything they asked._ He sighed. Even going after Victor didn't make sense. _He had no part of his; hell, he's in direct lineage to the fucking Irish bastards._ As the sun began to rise, he cursed himself for allowing those bastards control of his life. His eyes drifted back to the pretty script.

 _Please know I love you, and I do not blame you for anything. Neither one of us could help falling in love. The fault isn't in you and me; it's in them. Just try to take care of our daughter. Keep an eye out for my Kerrianne. Just make sure she's safe too._

 _I know you'll do the right thing, James. Just know that the moments we shared we have shared have been the best of my life. They bring me comfort now, as I wait for the end._

James inhaled deeply. His eyes left those swirly, beautifully written words and stared out at the Appalachian skyline. He folded his hands and placed his chin on his fingertips. He was lost. Completely lost. He knew he had to find his daughter. The words found him again.

 _Take care of our little girl, James. Make sure she never knows the life her mother led. Keep her safe. Promise me. I love you. I love you so very, very much. Always._

The sun illuminated the room now; any minute the staff would be walking in, starting their mundane days, never knowing that their boss lived a life of Irish warfare, a mistress, and a secret baby. He smiled ruefully. _If only they knew._

Carefully, James folded the paper in half and placed it back in its hiding place. He stood as he closed the drawer. Without hesitation, he grabbed his lab coat and slid it on. _I promised to keep them safe,_ he thought. Catching his gaze in a small wall mirror, he hated the man that stood there. _I never wanted to be this. All I wanted was her._

He straightened his coat. For now, he'd be professional and try to forget her, but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her high cheekbones and smooth skin. He saw her curls, so like Kerrianne's, so like Hannah's. Just as he had twenty years ago, James saw forever in her. As he pulled the door open, only one thought raced through his mind.

 _I love you too, Fiona. Always._

 _._


	32. Chapter 32

The Scot was tall, with dark eyes and a silver mane of hair. The twin scars on each of his cheeks deepened as he smiled in welcome. The grin wasn't one of happiness, but one of quiet resignation.

Victor stood, awestruck, unable to move his eyes away from the ghost before him. He'd never known Chibs personally, but he would never forget the deceased biker's face. He was simply thankful that, in this dream at least, Chibs' brain was neatly tucked back into his skull. The memories from Abel and Hannah's wedding were more than fresh, and with Victor's current state of mind, he was more than grateful for the cleaned up version of the biker.

"Yer obviously dreamin, lad," Chibs murmured low. "Dinna be scared. I canna hurt ye—and even if I could, I would not lay a hand on ye—Yer too good for Lala. She loves ye. Even I can see that."

They were surrounded by nothing, a sea of blackness. Victor definitely had the sensation of floating, and as he looked beneath his feet, he knew it was more than sensation. Both he and Chibs were actually floating.

"I love her," Victor responded. It was still strange and foreign to him, this sheer adoration he had for Delylah Teller. The last two weeks she'd spent by his side made him realize that. The only time she ever left him was to relieve her mother's bedside vigil with Abel. He didn't know what made him so lucky, but he knew he was.

"You must be wondering why I am here," Chibs began. He still wore his SAMCRO kutte. Beneath it was a stark white, long sleeved shirt. Black jeans hung loosely over his hips. Victor noticed a couple of silver necklaces around the Scot's throat; one was a crucifix and the other was an oval shaped talisman. It looked almost like a locket, but Victor wouldn't ask him if it was.

"Obviously," Victor said. "I mean, I never even knew you. Shouldn't you be hanging around in Jax or Tara's psyche? They'd probably get more out of it."

Chibs chuckled low. "I dinna know about that, kid."

"What do you mean?" Victor tried not to be annoyed by Chibs' use of the word _kid_ , as he struggled to remind himself that Chibs was old enough to be his father. Hell, in some places, the old man could have been his grandfather.

"Ye dinna know me," Chibs replied. "Ye dinna have the hang-ups or the guilt that they do where I am concerned. You'll be more concerned about paying attention than worryin' about what mighta been."

"So what do you want from me?" Victor carefully asked. There was no accusation or malice in his voice, just sheer curiosity.

"I want nothing from ye," Chibs answered. "I hae nothing to ask of ye. Yer asking so much of yerself. The guilt ye hae is swallowing ye whole, and yer losing sight of the big picture. The answer is right there in front of ye."

"The answer to what?" Victor countered. "To my missing sister? To Delylah's missing sister? Because both of them were taken because I wasn't vigilant. I let my guard down, and now they're gone."

"Ye realize they'd be gone, no matter what?" Chibs asked the younger man. "Ye realize this is bigger than you could possibly imagine? Hell, it fucks wi my mind now, and I'm fucking dead."

"What do you mean, bigger than I realize?" Victor questioned.

"This started long before Jax was even born. It's a destiny that Jon Teller didn't even understand. When he started SAMCRO all those years ago, he catapulted us to what we're supposed to be."

"It sounds way too philosophical," Victor stated. He didn't know SAMCRO's past; he didn't realize what had gone on before he was born. It didn't make sense. "You're talking in riddles."

"I'm not talking in riddles, kid," Chibs stated. "I'm telling ye the truth. Ye have no idea the evil that lurks within us all—in Jax, in Tara—in yer own family. It's all connected. Ye need to start questioning yer father. Ye need to look to yer own blood, and ye will be able to put everything together."

"Why don't you just tell me?" Victor asked. Chibs grinned toothily as a small peel of cold, brittle laughter left his throat. "I would give anything to find my sisters." _Sisters._ Victor couldn't believe how easily the word was to say. He was already thinking of Ophelia as his sister-in-law. It was an exhilarating and scary thought.

"Ah, the ole clichés are true there, kid," Chibs answered. "Dead men tell no tales."

"That's bullshit," Victor countered. "Just fucking tell me."

"What fun would that be?" Chibs turned the tables on Victor, but he wasn't smiling. "I canna gie ye any more. I've told ye where to look. I told ye where to go. Yer father holds more keys than even he realizes, and he has to be the one to tell ye."

"And if he says nothing?" Victor asked. Chibs shrugged his shoulders, but his sad brown eyes spoke volumes. _I don't know._

Victor's eyes blinked open, and it took him a moment to realize he was no longer dreaming. As Delylah's long, disheveled hair came into view, his vision focused, and he was both relieved and frustrated to realize he was back at Jax and Tara's mountain cabin. It was the first morning he'd woke without a crippling headache; the dull pain at the base of his skull ran more towards a vague throb, and he was more than grateful for it.

Slowly, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts of his sister slammed into his brain. Resigned to a tiny hospital bed for last two weeks, he'd had nothing but time to think of Hannah and of Ophelia. They both haunted his brain, which now constantly ached. He kept playing the events of the last couple of months over and over again; the memories were on a loop that tormented the young soldier. They troubled him more than Iraq or Afghanistan ever would.

"Bad dreams, baby?" he heard Delylah whisper. He closed his eyes as that sweet girl rolled over and carefully coiled her body around his. It was out of pure reflex that he wrapped a weakened arm around her. It felt amazing to have her by his side, but it also filled him with a sense of trepidation. He now constantly wondered when the proverbial shoe would finally drop—there was now this real, almost tangible fear that Delylah was next, but he wasn't the only person that feared that—the whole family feared it. Even Delylah feared it, and Victor wasn't upset about that at all. He needed her a little scared. It kept her close; it kept her vigilant.

"What makes you ask that?" Victor whispered back. Chills rushed through his body her t-shirt clad body brushed against his. He wanted nothing more than to take her, to possess her, to tumble her soundly, but the ache in his head was quickly turning into a familiar agony. The ever-present nausea bubbled in his stomach, but he fought it. _I just want to be normal. I just want to love this girl. I want to hold her. I don't want to take pills or think of who is trying to steal everything. I just want to love her._

"You kept talking to someone," Delylah explained. "You sounded strange, like a big ball of worry and anger and sadness."

"Did I wake you?" he asked as he slowly turned. Even in the haze of pain, he still easily recognized her stunning blue eyes

"No," Delylah lied. His low, tight voice had roused her from a restless slumber, but she didn't mind. Even with him tossing and turning all night, it was still a better sleep than she'd had since he was attacked. In the few weeks they'd been together, she'd grown accustomed to his big body lying beside her. Without him there, she barely slept. Catching naps in hospital recliners was far better than sleeping alone. Now, facing him, she was exhausted, but she was happy.

"Good," Victor said. A sharp pain cut through his skull and he winced.

"You're hurting," Delylah said. It was more of a statement than a question. "I hate this pain."

 _I can deal with the physical._ Chibs' image flashed in his mind. He shuddered. _The physical pain is a piece of cake. The mental, the emotional?_ He smiled as he brushed a dark curl from her gorgeous face. _Well, that's another story altogether._

"I'm alright, love," he soothed. His throat was scratchy and sore. She smiled sweetly and caught him off guard with a careful, chaste kiss. Her hand gently stroked his stubbly face in slow, soft circles. It crept up to gingerly touch his temples. She stopped for a moment and opened her eyes. She was still astounded at the soft fuzzy hair that had grown during his hospitalization. It was jet black and downy soft. There was a look of marvel in her eyes, and he knew that she silently wished he'd never shave his head again.

With a coquettish smile, she stroked his cheek again and rolled away. As she stood, Victor caught a glimpse of endless legs pop out beneath the massive black t-shirt she wore. It was his, and he never made it look as good as she did. His eyes widened as he saw the silky crease where her ass met her thighs. He unconsciously licked his lips, unable to help himself, and he silently cursed his pain filled skull.

"Where are you going?" Victor asked. He watched as she scrambled for a pair of yoga pants. Finding a long discarded pair on in a clothes basket, she grabbed them and put them on.

"Getting you some coffee," she replied. "You look like you need it."

"I'm not gonna argue with that," he stated. Maybe the caffeine would curb the headache. He watched as she opened the door and left the room, careful not to slam the door behind her. He twisted and reached for the nightstand, his fingers trembling as he did so. He saw stars as he grabbed his phone and rolled onto his back. He blinked them away as he focused on the screen. _I have to be quick,_ he thought as he carefully, he flipped through his contacts and quickly found his father's name.

 _Do you have patients today?_ Victor quickly typed. Hitting send, he immediately cursed himself. _He's not gonna fucking answer,_ he thought. _You're an idiot. There's no way—_

 _Yes, I have patients._ Victor's brow furrowed as he read his father's response. _I'm here until three. Why?_

Shock flooded Victor's being as he stared blankly at the screen. He couldn't believe James responded.

 _Do you think you could meet with me after?_ Victor fully expected his father to ignore the text, but he answered, much to Victor's chagrin.

 _Where? Are you able to drive?_

 _Meet me at Jax and Tara's cabin. Do you know where it is?_

 _I'll make sure we are alone._ He knew Thomas and Will were out helping Jax. Venus would be gone all day, sitting with Tara and Athea. That only left Delylah. He didn't think he could talk her into leaving his side, and he wasn't sure he wanted her to. He didn't want her in any further danger. _I need to talk to you._

 _About?_ Victor gritted his teeth in annoyance.

 _Hannah. There's new leads._ It was much easier to lie in a text. No response.

The door swung open and Delylah walked in. The smell of coffee wafted in Victor's nose, and he closed his eyes, welcoming the scent.

"Black, just like you like it, baby," Delylah walked to Victor's side of the bed; he slowly sat upright, valiantly fighting the swimming sensation in his head. With a mumbled _thank you,_ he took the cup and sipped it slowly, reveling in the bitterness. He watched as Delylah walked to the other side of the bed. Careful not to shake the bed, she lowered herself to the mattress, kicked her legs up. She was now lying at his side. He couldn't help but stare as she draped the sheet over her lithe body. He set his coffee on the bedside table, then he gingerly laid back and turned to stare at her.

Unable to control the urge, Victor leaned forward and kissed Delylah. A slight moan vibrated against his tongue as her hands rose to his bare chest. Goosebumps blossomed on his skin as the kiss deepened, and he traced his fingers up her thighs. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of her yoga pants, and she gasped.

"Baby, we can't—" she murmured. He silenced her with another kiss. Victor pulled her close as her nails dug lightly into his skin.

"We'll be careful," he promised with a devilish grin. She didn't want to argue. It had been far too long since he'd touched her skin, and she'd forgotten how much she missed it. She returned his smile, and a glimmer of lust sparked in her eyes as she rolled away and stood once more. He chuckled.

"More coffee?" he joked. He watched as she stalked over to the door. Turning the doorknob lock, she turned and faced him again. She bit her bottom lip as she gripped the hem of her too-large shirt and pulled it over her head. The black sports bra came off after. Victor's dark eyes narrowed as he watched her guileless strip down. The yoga pants and tiny black boy shorts were next. Now stark naked, she walked towards him.

Victor felt his desire mount as she neared. Her long chestnut hair fell in tangled curls over her shoulders as she climbed into bed. Victor pulled her towards him, ignoring his headache. She lowered her face to his and kissed him again. He grabbed her and held her close. The sensation of her skin touching his was too much to bear. He braced himself to roll and pin her beneath him, but she slightly pulled away.

"Let me," she whispered. "Just lay back and let me love you, baby."

He wasn't going to argue. With a silent, pleased grin, he nodded, allowing her to continue her passionate assault. With a sensuous stare, she lowered her mouth to his neck. He closed his eyes and growled appreciatively. Her lips traced his throat and his collarbone. Her tongue flicked across his desire-soaked body as she moved to his chest. A sharp intake of breath escaped him as she moved even lower. When he dared to open his eyes, he was shocked to see her staring up at him. The ravenous hunger in her eyes took his breath away.

Slowly, she began pulling down his loose pajama bottoms. Before he could kick them down and away, she'd already taken him into her mouth, furiously licking and sucking. The sensation took his breath away as he closed his eyes. He reached out and lightly stroked her hair and gently tugged at it. His jaw clenched as she continued her ministrations.

"Baby, please," he jaggedly begged. "Enough. I want you. Please." Her blue eyes glimmered with triumph. She pulled away from him and finished removing his pants. She crawled up his body, only stopping as her hips hovered above his. Slowly, she sat upright and lowered herself onto his stiffened shaft, closing her eyes as she did so. Victor's heart skipped within his chest as she rocked back and forth. His eyes freely roamed her body, and his hands explored every inch of skin.

"God, I love you," Victor breathlessly declared. Delylah's eyes flew open and locked with his.

"I love you," Delylah stated as she moved faster. Mere moments felt like a delicious eternity as he grabbed her hips. Low moans flew from her slightly parted lips as her movements became more urgent. He felt her thighs tighten around his waist. _She's close._ He clenched her hips tighter as her head turned toward the ceiling. Within moments, Delylah was crying out in pleasure, but even after her bliss abated, she kept moving. Victor stiffened beneath her as his back slightly arched. Delylah ran her hands down his chest as he neared his climax. His head exploded as he came, but the pleasure from Delylah's body far outweighed any pain.

For a moment, she remained straddled across him, but she bent and lay across his torso. She could feel his heart hammer against her chest. _I'm so glad you're mine,_ she thought.

The sound of vibration broke the moment. Delylah sat up again and moved off of Victor. She lay next to him as he grabbed the phone. He grimaced as he read the message.

 _I'll be there no later than four._

"Who is that?" Delylah asked. Victor turned and looked at her. He wondered if asking his father for an impromptu meeting was the right thing to do. After all, the strange premonitions from his dream were still incredibly fresh. _What do I say? I'm asking to meet my father because a Scot ghost said he was the link to all this craziness?_ Victor sighed. _Yeah, that'll make sense. She'll probably take me right back to the hospital._ He looked at Delylah. _You deserve the truth._

"It's James," Victor said. "I asked him to meet me here today. I feel like I need to talk to him."

Delylah was shocked. She'd never imagined this day would come.

"What made you change your mind?" Delylah asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Victor replied. "You shouldn't worry about it anyway."

 _But I do worry,_ she thought. _It's because I love you._ Judging from the look of determination in his eyes, she knew he wouldn't speak about his motives until he was ready. While it drove Delylah crazy, she knew that questioning him further would only piss him off more.

Instead of talking, Delylah reached out stroked his face again. She got him, and she was one of a handful of people that did. As he leaned into her hand, Victor just how much he loved her touch. It wasn't just because he loved the physicality of it all, but because he knew she'd gotten his motives. _How amazing it is to be understood, without even uttering a word._ At that moment, a stunning epiphany filled his soul. Victor didn't want just sex or dating; he'd had that before, and it did nothing but leave him lonely. As he looked into her eyes, he realized that the young woman before him was more than just a girlfriend. His future played in front of his eyes, and she was in every scene, and that's when he knew that she wasn't just a girl—one day soon, she'd be his bride.


	33. Chapter 33

_Today is the day._ Hannah had played the scene over and over in her mind. She'd spent the last two weeks carefully constructing her plan, and even as her heart hammered against her chest, the tiny life tumbling in her belly gave her the courage to move forward, no matter what the circumstance.

 _I'd rather die free than live scared,_ she thought sadly as she sat on the edge of her bed. In the absence of technology, of sunlight, of time as she knew it, she'd had plenty of time to think. She'd figured out that Lucius would stop by every eight hours or so. The reasoning behind her conclusion wasn't all that difficult; she knew it took her four hours to read a longer, four-hundred page novel. She'd finished two at a time in between visits. All her time was spent reading or sleeping—and it was then that she had a rough idea of the days that passed. The long abandoned bedside table held an old notepad and pen. Hannah made a habit of writing a tick mark every third visit. If she was right, over a month had passed since she'd been abducted. The thought should have driven her crazy; instead, the knowledge of her time spent brought a little peace.

 _I have to get the hell out of here,_ she thought as she stroked her belly. All she wanted was to close her eyes and wake to find it was all a strange, fucked up dream; instead, she was held in luxurious captivity, surrounded by mahogany walls and ivory porcelain tiles, with thick, soft carpet beneath her feet. _It could be so much worse, Hannah,_ the logical, too-long incarcerated side of her thought. _They could have locked you in a hole, with no food, no interaction, no books._ Part of her felt as if she should appreciate the fact that she had Lucius and her baby to keep her company.

 _Lucius._ The very thought of his name made her skin crawl. She never once thought she was capable of hatred, but after losing all concept of time and date, after his brutal confession about Abel's condition, and after continuing to hold her hostage, she knew that every ounce of hatred was well-deserved. She couldn't fully express her loathing out of fear that he'd cut her off altogether. He was the only person keeping her and the baby alive.

 _The baby._ She ran a soothing hand across her abdomen as she thought of her child. She prayed every single day for the little life that fluttered within her belly, and she prayed for its father too. Her thoughts were consumed by him. She constantly worried about Abel, wondering if he'd woke from his coma—or if he was still in the depths of unconsciousness. She refused to think of him as dead. _I would know that,_ she thought. _I would be able to feel his spirit leave me._ Every cell in her body told her he was still alive, because death, at this stage of the game, was simply not an option.

She heard his key within the lock. The door swung open, and in walked Lucius, baskets of food in hand. Hannah tilted her head and watched as he carefully walked towards the circular table.

"Good morning, lovely." He greeted her as if they were close friends; he didn't act like a captor. A big, genuine smile lit his handsome features. "I come baring gifts of food."

"Good morning," Hannah whispered as she stood slowly and carefully. Sudden moves caused flashes of pain to streak down her sides, so she'd learned to take her time and save herself a lot of agony. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet. She made her way to Lucius, hand on her belly, a fake smile plastered on her face. Her stomach grumbled with hunger as she peeked in the basket. She spied four paper-wrapped sandwiches, two plastic containers of soup, two gallon bottles of water, a liter of orange juice, and assorted fruits and vegetables for snacking. _See,_ her conscience admonished, _They're taking care of you._ Her eyes stared ahead as her mind warred with itself. _Prisons feed their prisoners,_ she retaliated. _That doesn't make them free._

"How are you feeling?" Lucius asked. "Any new changes?"

Hannah didn't want to tell him that she could now feel her baby moving, nor would she tell him that she still battled morning sickness. _You don't need to know a goddamned thing._ She stood straight and shook her head in the negative. Glancing into the bag, she grabbed one of the sandwiches. Unwrapping it carefully, she sat at the table and began eating.

"You're not going to talk this morning?" Lucius asked, obviously annoyed.

"I'm sorry," she answered, feigning contriteness. She hoped he didn't see through her charade. She'd spent the last two weeks cultivating an image she knew he'd respond to. "I'm really tired. Growing a human is harder than I realized." Lucius had the nerve to laugh. Hannah watched as he leaned onto the table. His eyes mischieviously sparkled as he stared at her, but Hannah didn't notice that. What she did notice was his left hand as it laid the keys down. He'd made a terrible habit of it. Hannah marveled at Lucius' lack of common sense. _A good warden never allows the prisoner to escape,_ she thought. _And they sure as hell don't leave the keys to freedom within reach._ She moved her glance up to Lucius' eyes, and she smiled warmly.

"No wonder you're exhausted," he said, eyeing her larger breasts before his gaze drifted to her burgeoning belly. "Pregnancy can take a lot out of you—but you look stunning. Babies really agree with you."

She wanted to vomit as the words fell from his mouth, but she kept her composure. Another sweet smile was cast in his direction. _Kill him with kindness,_ Hannah thought. Before she could open her mouth to respond, Lucius reached out and traced her jawbone with his index finger. She closed her eyes in revulsion, but she prayed that he didn't notice.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered. "I would love to have just one night with you."

 _You'll never get this body, not willingly,_ she inwardly screamed. _Never._ Even as she internally rallied against him, her brain was steps ahead. Ever since she saw Lucius' bad habit with the keys, she knew what she had to do. The goal was to get the keys and escape somehow. She closed her eyes and inhaled in an effort to calm her anxious heart. Her child was flitting about within her, as if it could sense her mother's fears. _You only get one shot, Hannah._ She opened her eyes as a tremulous smile spread across her face. _Please forgive me, Abel,_ she silently begged.

"Why would you want a big preggo like me?" she asked. She felt her cheeks flush with apprehension. Her stomach ached with self-loathing as she fully embraced the flirtatious lilt of her voice. _You gotta own this shit, Hannah,_ she coached herself. _It's the only way you'll be free._ She swallowed hard as knelt beside her.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he breathed. His peridot eyes sparkled with lust as he stared up at her.

"More beautiful than Ophelia?" she asked.

"You can't compare the beauty of a girl to a beauty of a woman," Lucius prettily replied. Nausea crept up Hannah's throat. She swallowed it down. She hated this. She hated every single second. She looked down, unsure of what to say.

"I shouldn't feel like this." The words fell from her mouth, and she realized it wasn't a complete lie. She _shouldn't_ have felt like her sexuality was the key to her freedom. Her soul ached with every word. She knew that Abel would, more than likely, understand her motive. There wasn't a single strand of DNA that loved Lucius; hell, there wasn't a single strand of DNA that even tolerated his presence.

"Like what, Hannah?" Lucius crept closer.

"I know I promised Abel till death do us part," she began, her voice tripping over the words as she did so. Every syllable felt like a betrayal. _I'm doing this for us, Abel. All three of us._ "But I can't help how I feel about you." Again, it wasn't a lie. She couldn't help but abhor Lucius. He just didn't have to know that.

Lucius crept closer. Hannah's hands were clammy, and she felt faint as the scent of his cologne filled her nose. He grasped her hands, forcing her to look up at him. Her gray eyes were blank as she stared into his.

"And just how do you feel, Hannah?" Lucius questioned.

"I don't really know," she lied. "I hated you at first, but you've been so good to me. I can't forget that."

"You're a great woman, Hannah," Lucius stated. Hannah couldn't tell if he was playing the same game she was; she chose to believe he was naïve. It was a lot easier that way.

"Am I?" she retorted. The question was aimed at herself more than Lucius. Her emotions threatened to engulf her. _Am I really a great woman?_ Tears sprang to her eyes. _A great woman would've gotten out of bed that morning and gone to the store with Opie and Lala. A great woman would've embraced her pregnancy, not hide it. I'm far from a great woman._

"I think you are," Lucius said. It was true. Except for that first day, she'd handled the situation with grace. She didn't fight or complain. She just accepted her fate. At first, Lucius thought her actions were to protect her baby; now, he was uncertain about that. _If only Ophelia were more like you,_ he thought. _We both would've been better off._

Lucius' mind was inundated with Ophelia's image. He'd done as he'd been instructed to do; he kept her as drugged as possible. It was becoming harder and harder to accomplish it, because she was building a tolerance to the Morphine. She was able to stay fairly alert, even with high doses of the narcotic in her bloodstream, but that's not what made him nervous. True to Jack Petty's prediction, Ophelia had begun asking more questions. _I can't think of that now,_ he thought as he shuddered.

"Thank you, Lucius," she shyly replied. She watched as he stood and reached a hand out to her. He could see her hand tremble as she grasped it. He gently pulled her to her feet. Now they stood, centimeters apart, and his eyes locked with hers. She could feel his hand trace up her side and catch the back of her neck. She gasped.

"No need to thank me," he said. "It's true."

She pulled back slightly, terrified of what was happening. Yes, she'd planned it this way, but she never realized the gravity of it all. Fear took over. _What if he doesn't buy it?_ The question plagued her, but before she could explore the depths of it, another, more fear-inducing question took over: _What if he does?_

"You're really scared, aren't you?" he asked, surprised. She nodded. "Why? Why would you be scared of me, Hannah? I haven't hurt you, so why would I start now?"

"I'm not scared of you," she carefully asserted. "I'm scared of the way I feel when you're here." She paused. "I should be faithful to my husband, but where is he now?"

"How do you feel when I'm here?" he asked.

"Weak," she admitted. "I don't trust myself around you anymore."

"Really, now?" Lucius countered. Before she could answer, he caught her lips in a gentle, coaxing kiss. Hannah fought the urge to slap him senseless and endured the gag-inducing assault. _Wrap your arms around him, Hannah,_ her mind coached. _Pretend to enjoy it. It won't last long._

As they parted from one another, Hannah breathed heavily. Her eyes were bleary as she met his lusty gaze. Her entire body screamed in protest. Her mind did a fair share of yelling as well.

"I didn't think it would be like that," she stated.

"Like what?"

"Amazing," she lied once more. There was nothing amazing in the man standing before her. "I want more."

Responding to her advances, Lucius bent and kissed her again, this time pulling her curvaceous body against his. His hands began to freely roam her waist and her hips before gradually moving his curious fingertips upward. She gasped into his mouth once he grazed her breasts. When she shivered, he took it for desire. Hannah trembled with revulsion.

A high pitched string of beeps filled the room, abruptly stopping Lucius. With a groan of frustration, he pulled away and grabbed his burner phone from his pocket. Without hesitation, he answered it. Hannah was grateful for the reprieve.

"Yeah?" he answered. Hannah could hear a deep, muffled male voice on the end, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. "I'll be there shortly."

Hannah watched as he clicked the call away, and he turned towards her.

"Can we take a raincheck on—" He gestured in the space between them. "This?"

"Of course," Hannah murmured. She clenched her hands into small fists and dug her nails into her palms.

"Later," he said. It wasn't a question. She nodded. _I'm not going anywhere,_ she thought. _Not yet, anyway._ He turned away, and without a word, he grabbed the keys and left the room, locking the door behind him.

The second the lock clicked, Hannah's tears flowed.

"What the fuck have I done?" she sobbed. Her whole body shook as she cried her heart out. She sank to her knees and allowed the sheer, aching pain to engulf her. She stayed there for a while and hurt. It was needed. It was necessary.

 _Get up, baby._ The words were clear as they traveled through her head. _Get up._

Her eyes flickered open. _Abel._ His voice was beautiful in her ears.

 _You gotta keep going, baby. For me. For our child. For us._

"I know," she whispered. "I know." She couldn't fail now. She knew that doing things this way would be hard; she knew she'd hate every second of it, but she also knew that freedom didn't come by sitting idly by, waiting for someone to set her free.

She sat up and pulled herself to her knees, then pushed her way up to her feet. There was only one way to get out of here. She had no weapons—no guns, no knives. The only things she had to overpower that bastard were her mind and his sick lust. She paced towards the dresser, where she found what she sought.

 _Knee socks._ She smiled. They were long, black chenille. _It's all part of the plan._ Lucius had been dumbfounded when she'd asked for them.

"It's so cold in here," she'd explained at the time. "They would really help."

She was astounded when he brought them to her at the next visit. She made a point of wearing them when he was around, so he wouldn't suspect anything. She stretched them. _They are absolutely perfect._

"Something so simple," she said low. A slow, self-satisfied grin lit her face. "Will do you in, Lucius." _Is it really that easy?_ She walked away from the dresser and over to her bedside table. She opened the small drawer there and placed the socks inside. _Later._ Lucius' farewell caused tears to flow again. She was terrified.

"I love you, Abel," she said into the silence. "I will do anything for you. I hope you know that."

 _That's my girl._ Abel's voice rang in her ears as she closed the drawer. _Do what you have to do. I'll be waiting when you get back._ A sense of peace flooded her, despite the trepidation and fear that came with her plan. The need to escape far outweighed anything else. She owed it to both herself and her baby to try to run. She stroked her stomach again, knowing she was already in love with the life that dwelled within her. She already knew she'd go through anything to protect her child, even if that meant dying. As the baby kicked around in her abdomen, she knew that, no matter how awful it would be to pretend to want Lucius, it was a necessary evil.

"We're gonna get out of here, love," she said to her small belly. Her resolve grew with every flutter, every light kick. "We're gonna be free, and we're gonna be safe. I can promise you that."


	34. Chapter 34

"We believe this is the best option, Mr. and Mrs. Teller," Dr. Maya Parker said softly. Her eyes were bespectacled today, making her look closer to her actual age. Her hair was tossed back in a messy ponytail. Her scrubs were a couple sizes too big, and Jax wondered if he could trust her with his oldest son's life. His eyes landed on Abel's sleeping face. _She's done alright so far,_ his brain reminded him. He looked at Tara next. Her face was taut with worry, but it was her reaction that would make or break Dr. Parker's plan.

"It is the best option, Maya," Tara replied. Jax's eyebrows raised with her being on a first-name-basis with Dr. Parker. _God, I've missed so much searching for the girls._ His heart was torn in a thousand directions. It had been since his family exploded. Hannah and Opie were still MIA, Victor was gravely injured, and Abel was still lingering in his medically-induced coma. He desperately wanted to be present for each one of his kids, but he'd come to the realization that it was truly an impossible task. He reached over and grabbed Tara's hand, grateful for her presence.

But she wasn't alone. Althea and Venus, who were now barely taking a break and grabbing lunch, had been with Tara constantly. Tig, Thomas, and Will were out asking questions, searching the house and the garage, but they'd be back. Tara was never alone. Jax didn't know if his longstanding love craved moments of loneliness, but if she did, she never spoke of it.

He knew it hadn't been easy for his SAMCRO family either. Althea was constantly calling Charming to speak with Bobby, with Lyla, and with John. Jax knew that Althea's wounds were still fresh from Chibs' murder. He knew that this task—the task of finding who killed Chibs—and finding Hannah and Opie's kidnappers—was merely a distraction from the blinding, heart-wrenching pain of being without her lover. Jax wondered what would happen once everything fell into place.

 _If they fall into place._ There was no way of knowing if any of them would be alive once everything was said and done. The thought both terrified and thrilled Jax. It'd been a long time since he'd felt so—alive. The irony didn't escape him—the life that soared through his veins only occurred when his life—and the lives of the ones he loved—were in complete and acutely present danger. He hated this paradox that had plagued him throughout his life.

"Good," Dr. Parker said. "We've already taken a few steps to ensure that taking Abel off the vent will work. His blood gasses are exactly where they need to be—blood pH is 7.9—"

"It needs to be at least 7.25," Tara interjected, more her own benefit than Jax's. She cracked a small smile as Dr. Parker nodded in agreement. He didn't understand any of the criteria needed, but he loved seeing Tara back in her element. He knew that she had voraciously soaked up all things medical during their WitSec years. She never told him why she did it, but he knew there was always the hope that Tara would be able to return to medicine one day.

"His P/F ratio is perfect as well," Dr. Parker stated.

"P/F?" Jax questioned. He rarely asked those kinds of questions, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he should have been involved in the conversation.

"The ratio of arterial oxygen partial pressure to fractional inspired oxygen," Tara replied with ease, not thinking of her laymen husband asking the question. Jax felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. _I shouldn't have even asked,_ he thought.

 _Step away from the ledge / I'm coming down—_ Jax's phone exploded with his favorite Five Finger Death Punch song. _Thank God._ He fumbled in his pocket, and he pulled the phone out, metal blasting. Tara shot a half annoyed glance in his direction.

"It's Delylah," he said. "I'll take it outside." Tara immediately softened and nodded as Jax left the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jax answered as he walked into the hallway. Nurses passed by, casting longing gazes at him, but he remained oblivious. Gone was twenty-something Jax Teller, stealing girls off of bikes and banging them just because he could—in his place was fifty-something Jax Teller—business owner, ex-biker, family man—and perhaps it was that quiet dynamic that still made him a stunning specimen of manhood.

"Hey Daddy," Delylah's voice rang in Jax's ears. He smiled, unable to help himself. There was no greater word than _Daddy,_ and he was grateful every time he heard it. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," he said calmly. "I'm at the hospital with your mama. They're taking him off the vent soon. Dr. Parker is saying he could be awake within hours after that-or it could take days-but he'll be awake."

"That's awesome," Delylah breathed. He could hear the happiness in his daughter's voice. The sound automatically made his heart sink—what he wouldn't give to hear Ophelia's voice now. His gut constricted with the thought of her. He had never been a religious man—he had a spirituality—but no organized, church-going religion. Still, every night since Hannah disappeared, he prayed. The minute Ophelia was taken, he prayed even harder. He asked for God to help him. Every. Single. Day.

And when a new day dawned, and he was met with Hannah and Ophelia's gigantic absences, he felt his resolve crumble, little by little. Still, in the midst of all his brokenness, he still held onto a glimmer of hope that something, even an unseen power, could help somehow. So far, he'd been disappointed every time he woke.

"Do you think I could come see him?" Delylah asked. "Hang out with Mama?"

"Is Victor up to driving all that way?" Jax returned.

"He's staying here," Delylah explained.

"He can't," Jax stated. "He needs someone with him at all times. And so do you."

"He won't be alone," Delylah elaborated. "He's asked Dr. Sinclair to the cabin."

Jax's jaw clenched. As much as he liked Victor, he was pissed that Victor didn't ask him first, knowing how Jax felt about James Sinclair. His nostrils flared as he struggled to regain his composure, but his heart was murderous. No matter how sweet Sarah was capable of being, Jax couldn't ignore what a colossal bastard James was.

"I'll come get you," Jax said. He couldn't control what would transpire between the two Sinclair men. Whatever it was, Jax knew it needed to happen. They just needed to talk or fight or kill one another—but something had to change. The only way to bring about change was to embrace it.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Delylah breathed. "It saves me the trouble of asking. I just don't feel like I can stand to be around that man."

"He's a fucking bastard," Jax admitted. "I mean—"

"I know what you meant, Daddy," Delylah said. There was a brief pause before she asked, "Anything new? Have you heard-?"

"No, honey," Jax mumbled. "There's nothing new. No leads."

"Are you giving up hope?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. On the other end, Jax could hear her curse herself.

"Never," Jax quickly responded. "Are you?" There was another, longer pause before she responded.

"I haven't given up," she said softly. "I know Hannah will fight until she can't anymore—and I feel like I would _know_ if Ophelia was gone. I mean, we're twins. I've known her since before we were even born. If she left me—"

Delylah's voice trailed off, and Jax knew what she was going to say. Instead of addressing their mutual fear, Jax cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"When is James coming?" he asked.

"Victor said no later than four," Delylah responded. "But, really, I don't think the hospital is the best idea. I don't want to go far. Can we swing by the police station instead? You know-while we wait? Maybe check in with Jack Petty?"

Jax knew that Jack wouldn't have any new results. He knew that it would be more of the same, but he also knew that, with Delylah staying by Victor's side, by Abel and Tara's sides, it was a distraction from the reality of her sister and sister-in-law, two of the three closest women in her life, being gone. Delylah was her mother's daughter—a consummate caregiver. She ignored her own pain and stuffed it down, so the truth wouldn't ache so goddamned bad.

Jax didn't argue with Delylah, nor did he try to discourage her from hearing the truth. He admired her logic too—leaving James with Victor could result in a volatile reaction, at best. Best to have her learn the hardcore reality of her sisters' disappearances, while staying close to the potentially volatile situation between Victor and his father. _Just like your mother,_ Jax thought.

"That sounds fine," Jax stated. "Tell Victor our plans. If he needs backup, I'll be there."

Delylah stayed quiet for a moment. Jax thought the call dropped until he heard her softly crying on the other end. As awful as this whole thing had been—having Hannah and Ophelia gone—Abel sick, Victor injured—it had to be so much harder on Delylah. Jax and Tara were tempered in chaos. The crazy ride they were on was just like riding a bike—Jax knew how to deal, as did his wife. His sons and daughters didn't. It just made every single cut that much harder to heal.

"Thank you, Daddy," Delylah choked. "I know Victor and I moved fast—"

"Your mama and I did too," Jax said with a sad smile.

"Still," Delylah interrupted. "You had every reason to hate him—he's older—he's a soldier—he's—he's—"

"He protected you," Jax stated, "And he protected our family like we were his own family. It doesn't matter how long you knew him—his life has been on the line over and over again for us—and he rose to challenge, every time. He'd die for you, Lala. You see that, right? Because that's what matters."

There was more silence. A huge cape of guilt covered Jax's heart as he waited for her to speak. With all the thoughts of the safety and well-being of their kids, Jax and Tara forgot what was important: _family._ Fear made Jax and Tara run and hide, and in that, they ensured their survival. Together, they forged their own little unit, but their kids grew up without what had kept them so grounded back in Charming.

They grew up without Bobby. Without Lyla. Without Chibs and Althea. Without Tig and Venus. Without Happy. There was no network of support, no one to lean on. There was no crazy family memories, no real diversity. There had been many times where Jax was proud of what he and Tara had given the children, but now, beneath the crushing weight of the Irish and the eminent danger ahead, he knew that going to Witness Protection was a double-edged sword if there ever was one.

"I'll leave in thirty minutes," Jax promised. "I'm gonna check on your mama and on Abel. You get Victor settled. You'll see me soon."

"Okay, Daddy," Delylah whispered. For a moment, Jax's breath caught. She sounded so young and vulnerable. Memories of a much younger Lala and Opie surfaced, followed by snippets of Thomas and Abel. _God, it's gone so damned fast,_ he thought.

At that moment, he watched Dr. Parker leave the room. She acknowledged Jax's presence was a tight, professional smile. He barely met her gaze as she walked away. He saw Tara's head peek around the corner. Her beautiful hazel eyes were tired, but they were full of hope. It was the closest thing to magic Jax had seen—the last time that look was in her eyes was during Abel and Hannah's wedding.

"I love you, Lala," he said.

"I love you too, Daddy," she returned. "See you soon."

Jax clicked the phone off as he walked towards Tara. She stepped out of the room and met him halfway. Jax didn't care about the bustle of the nurses and doctors, the back and forth between patients and their family members. All he saw was his wife. The minute she was close enough, he gently pulled her near, embracing her.

"They're gonna take Abel off the vent," she whispered into his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning. Dr. Parker thinks he'll be awake in no time." Tara didn't know whether to smile or to cry. She was that damned numb. "We're gonna have to tell him everything."

"We will," Jax said. "But I won't tell him alone. He can't handle it. Not now."

"You know I'll be there," she whispered.

"That's not what I meant," Jax said. They stood still in the center of the hallway. No one else mattered. They had a way of shutting everyone out, and it was pure beauty when they did.

"Well, explain it to me, baby," Tara requested. She always felt complete and safe in his arms. Even with all the insanity, there was no place she'd rather be.

"Hannah can explain it. Ophelia can explain it," he stated. Tara pulled back slightly and looked into Jax's baby blue eyes. They were steadfast and fearless, as always. _You are such a comfort, Jax Teller._

"I don't understand," Tara said with a confused stare.

"Our son will be off the vent tomorrow," Jax explained. "When he'll wake is anyone's guess. I'm on the clock, baby. I've been hunting for my girls like crazy, but it's not been enough. I've always been torn between here and there—and that's why they're not found yet. I can't let Abel wake up to this disaster. I have to find them before he opens his eyes."

Understanding dawned on Tara. Old Jax would've stayed away until the job was done. She remembered weeks where she'd barely see him. They used to frustrate her and confound her, and now, standing in a North Carolina hospital, thousands of miles away from Charming, she finally truly understood the restless warrior that resided in her husband's bones.

"Go baby," she whispered. "Don't worry about me anymore. I'll take care of Abel, just like I did when it was just us. We'll figure it out. Take Tig, Tommy, and Will and find our girls. Stop stretching yourself so thin. Just focus."

"I gotta help Lala for a bit," he explained. "I'll call Tig and the boys and meet up in Silver Spring with them after. I'm tired of waiting for Jack Petty to figure shit out. He's a small-town cop—what the fuck does he know?"

"You couldn't do a worse job," Tara admitted. "Go back to who you were then—where the cops were useless and justice was so much sweeter when you executed it yourself. I never thought I'd say this Jax, but—go. Be John and Gemma's son again. Be one of the Sons. Be motherfucking SAMCRO."

The smile that etched on Jax's lips was so stunning, it took Tara's breath away. For a moment, they were sixteen again. It was hard to believe that thirty-five years had passed since they'd first met, but the love they'd built together was the powerful emotion either had ever known.

"I love you, Tara," Jax said.

"I love you, Jax," Tara replied.

Slowly, carefully, Jax bent and touched his lips to hers. All around them, life moved on. The upheaval of the last few months was almost over—both Jax and Tara could feel it as they kissed. _I just hope we're all standing when it's all said and done_ , she thought. As Jax pulled her closer, and their heartbeats syncopated with one another, Tara felt her husband's fearless spirit enter her soul. It was that moment she finally allowed herself to believe they could win. She knew they could beat the maelstrom that surrounded them all.


	35. Chapter 35

Hannah Teller was a beautiful woman. She had a stunning mass of thick, dark curls that highlighted her silvery eyes. That, as well as her caramel skin, only grew richer and more stunning as her pregnancy progressed. And Lucius couldn't stop thinking of her. The taste of her lips lingered on his as he sat, patiently waiting.

More than an hour had passed since he'd received the phone call that ripped him from Hannah's intoxicating scent, her soft, supple skin, her newly curvaceous frame. He sat in a massive study, unsure of what to do next. This wasn't his home; it was no one's home—just an over-opulent, over-priced exercise in futility. It had been leased when this stupid charade began. Back then, in the beginning, Lucius had been completely on board. As Jack Petty's puppet, he wanted to exact revenge on the Tellers, on SAMCRO, even though the details as to why there was so much hatred remained to be seen.

Anxiety racked his bones as he stood and looked out the lawn. It stretched for what seemed like forever, its lush, green grass like a Rembrandt landscape, so vivid and alive, it just didn't seem real. _Nothing seems real anymore,_ Lucius thought sadly. When the plan began, and Lucius gave them all the intel on Jax and Tara's small family unit, there was promise of greater things. Jack constantly assured him that he'd get word to the Irish.

"Yer doin an amazing job, Lucius," he'd said just two nights ago. "You've managed to carry out what the Kings want, without attracting attention to yerself. Ye've laid low, stayed out of Silver Spring, kept a close eye on Hannah and Ophelia—"

"But when is it going to end, Jack?" Lucius carefully asked. He didn't want Jack to think him ungrateful, but Lucius also knew that he couldn't keep up appearances much longer. He was just as much a prisoner as the girls were—he just hadn't realized it. Lucius didn't know how or when he'd come to that realization, but now that he had, it ate at him.

"Soon, ma boy," the older man answered, the Gaelic brogue thick with intention. "Soon. I just have to get word that we are ready to go to war, and to war we'll go."

Lucius thought the moment had come. With the urgent rushed phone call, he thought war was eminent. Now, as minutes bled into an hour—he wondered what the truth was. As thoughts of Hannah intermingled with thoughts of Jack and of Ophelia, he was now more confused than ever.

Just above the study, he thought Ophelia lay alone, drugged into oblivion. What he didn't realize is the tolerance his one-time girlfriend had built. She was just as awake as he, staring at the ceiling, contemplating what to do next. Ophelia couldn't believe there had ever been a time where she loved the thin, obviously unstable young man. She cursed herself an idiot, but her pale gray eyes rested on the firmly lodged IV key. It dangled in the case that housed her blessing and her curse—morphine.

Memories washed over her. The sounds of Lucius' fists slamming into her flesh haunted her dreams. Her cries for mercy haunted her waking thoughts. Still, true to the Gemma Teller genetics that raged through her, she kept quiet, played stupid, and soundly manipulated Lucius. She realized now that the bastard wasn't bright. She was just amazed at how a hot body and beautiful face could cloud one's judgement.

 _Thank God for Jack Petty._ Ophelia remembered the officer as one of her father's friends. That first moment, the second she woke up, she knew she was in trouble. Lucius delivering her meds, explaining her pain and her supposed automobile accident—none of it added up, even in the midst of her drug-induced haze. That first night, she feigned sleep in the hopes Lucius would leave her alone. Had Jack not walked in just after she closed her eyes, Ophelia might have been inclined to believe some of the ridiculous nonsense Lucius spouted. The conversation between Jack and Lucius told her everything she needed to know: she was trapped, and Hannah was somewhere within the same walls.

She sat up slowly. Like her twin before her, she'd managed to figure out when Lucius would arrive—the timing all rested in the morphine pump. Lucius had become quite the good nurse during Ophelia's tenure in her pretty cell. He knew when her morphine levels would lessen, and he came in at specific times of the day for that reason. It was all very calculated. Lucius paid attention to the important details.

 _Too bad the small details didn't fucking matter,_ Ophelia thought with a sick smile. He didn't count on her memories, just like he didn't count on her to fight the sick fog that surrounded her. Just after Jack and Lucius cleared her room, her eyes gradually opened. At first, tears flowed from them. She was unable to help it. She couldn't get over how stupid she felt.

 _The key._ Her tired eyes stared at it now, and she was amazed at her good fortune. A smart man would have removed the key from the lockbox. After timing Lucius' visits, and with the key left behind, Ophelia would, in Lucius' absence, reach for the key, open the pump, and dial down the opiate. She'd found a way to empty the remaining morphine, and her dependence eventually lessened. She was almost completely drug free during the day. She would change the settings back to what Lucius deemed normal—just in time for Lucius to come in. She would fake a stupor, and now, more often than not, he came in, saw her sleeping, checked the pump and left. Any time between visits was spent plotting her escape. She still didn't know how it was going to happen.

Lucius was completely unaware of the turmoil that raged in Ophelia's soul. He had his own demons to fight as he grabbed his vibrating phone.

 _I'm running late. Unexpected visitors. Don't expect me any time soon. I'll text when I leave._

"Goddamnit." Lucius fought the urge to throw his phone across the room. Instead, his fingers clenched around it as his jaw tightened. An anxious lump lodged in his throat. He closed his eyes, at war with himself.

 _Hannah._ As soon as the aggravation filled him, it dissipated. All it took was her name. With his impromptu meeting postponed, he could make the best of the time and finish what he started with her. Giddiness flowed through his veins as he practically ran out of the study and ascended the stairs to her room. Normally, he'd stop by Ophelia's room. _She's fucking sleeping,_ he thought absentmindedly, bypassing the door, and rushing towards Hannah's.

Hannah barely had time to register the sound of the key within the lock. She'd been reading, waiting for him, but she never thought it would be so soon. Immediately, her heart slammed into her sternum, and blood rushed through her veins. She could hear both pounding as she tried to appear calm. The door opened slowly, carefully. Lucius entered the room with ease. Hannah, terrified, didn't even look up as he closed the door behind him.

"God, you're lovely," he murmured low. Hannah had to look up then. He crossed over to the table, flinging the room key onto it. For a brief moment, Hannah saw why Ophelia lusted after him, despite all common sense. He was incredibly handsome, but that didn't make a difference to her. There was no attraction whatsoever.

"Thank you," she whispered shyly. "I was wondering when you were going to come back."

"Missed me that much, eh?" he returned. Hannah's stomach roiled in protest, but she prayed the stain of blush that covered her cheeks would lie for her.

"As ashamed as I am to admit it, yes," she replied. She stood slowly. Clad in black leggings and a black top, she was enchanting. Lucius' mouth was dry as she approached him.

 _Forgive me, Abel,_ she thought as she walked to him. She didn't hesitate; to do so would show weakness, and that was something Hannah couldn't afford now. No words were spoken as she laced her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Before she could grow accustomed to the situation, he gripped her waist and returned the kiss. It was all Hannah could do not to vomit in his mouth. When his tongue darted between her teeth and covered hers, she broke away, disgusted.

"What's wrong?" Lucius questioned, confused. She placed a shaky hand on her chest as she glanced at him.

"I just didn't expect this," she stated.

"Expect what?"

"This—this-passion," she stated. "I've only been with Abel. I don't know what someone else is like. It's insane—but I love it." The last words were said with a perfectly false smile.

"Abel's your only—" he asked. Hannah nodded. A self-satisfied smile crept across his lips. _Like a virgin, without the effort._ He could feel the beginnings of a hard-on in his jeans. _Just you wait, Hannah._

He bent and kissed her. She noticeably shivered as he continued his assault on her body.

 _I hope he believes this,_ she though as she faked an excited moan. Unable to resist her, his hands ran up her shirt, reveling in the sensation of her soft, perfect skin. Fear knifed through Hannah's soul as she forced herself closer to him. He broke away for a moment, and his eyes caught hers.

"Too bad you're knocked up already," he whispered. "We'd make beautiful babies together."

 _My husband and I make better ones,_ she thought as his lips crushed hers again. This time, she felt his hands climb further beneath the shirt. His rough, callused fingertips grazed her breast, gently at first, then as she made the sounds he wanted to her, he advanced his crazed kneading. She cursed her body and her hormones, because she was physically reacting. Her nipples hardened beneath his surprisingly eager touch, and she hated herself for it.

She knew she had to reciprocate. With trembling hands, she began to unbutton his shirt. He didn't stop her; in fact, the only time he ceased kissing her was to take a quick breath. She pulled back for a moment, breathless, and slid his shirt back. She gasped at what was beneath.

"It's only a gun," he said calmly, stepping away from her. Housed in a tightly fitted holster, the 9 mm was both a surprise and a fear. Lucius divested himself of the holster, and after walking across the room, he placed it on the table.

"Now, where were we?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her legs out from beneath her and cradling her, he laid her carefully on the bed. Before she could rise and regain the upper hand, he was atop her, kissing her neck. Hannah was sure he could feel her racing pulse beneath her skin; she just prayed that he thought it was nervousness. As panic set in, she closed her eyes, wondering just what she'd gotten herself into. She could feel his hands pulling her shirt up. A low sigh of desire rumbled from his throat.

"Fuck, I want to be inside you," he growled.

 _You will never be inside me, motherfucker,_ she thought. Her eyes flew open. _I have to get control. Or he's going to win. I can't let that fucking happen._

Hannah pushed on his chest. For a moment, he paused and gazed into her eyes.

"I want you to fuck me." Hannah knew the words were spewing from her mouth, but she tried not to hear them.

"I plan on it," he declared. He lowered himself to kiss her again, but she stopped him once more. With a devilish grin and a silent prayer, she twisted and used her full weight to roll him beneath her. Her belly screamed in protest as shards of fire raced down either side of her belly. She tried not wince as the pain soaked her muscles. Instead, she seductively smiled. Running her hands over her breasts and down to the hem of her shirt. She yanked it over her head. Looking down at him, a self-satisfied grin spread across her lips.

"Fuck, Hannah," his breath was guttural and jagged as he struggled to regain control. He stared at her, and desire ate at him as he took in the view. Her breasts, now large and swollen with pregnancy, mocked him from the confines of her almost too-small black lace bra. Her waist was still small and almost perfect; only her lower abdomen had rounded, and even that wasn't significant.

"You like it on top?" he brazenly asked. She grinned in response, even as her cheeks reddened.

"I do," she replied. She bent over and pushed his shirt up. Sheer electricity shot through him as she yanked it over his head. He tried sitting up, but Hannah pushed him back.

"Let me do the work," she stated. It was then she reached into the bedside table and produced the knee socks.

"You're gonna wear those?" he asked, confused.

"No—I'm gonna do better than that," she confessed with a giggle. He grew hard thinking of her in just those knew socks. _Maybe next time,_ he thought. Quickly, before he could object, she took each knee sock and tied him to the bedposts.

"Whoa," he mumbled as she tightly and efficiently bound him. "You're a big tease, aren't you, baby?" He sounded impressed.

She nodded as she checked that her knots were skin tight and secure. There was no slack, no give between Lucius' skin and the socks. Satisfied with the predicament, she smiled and traced a long index finger down his abdomen.

"I'm the biggest fucking tease you'll ever fucking encounter," her voice was firm and angry as she moved off of him.

"Wait—what the-?" Lucius knew then he'd made a fatal mistake. Aware of his error, he began kicking and pulling at the restraints. His face was beet red as fought to get up. Hannah busied herself by throwing her shirt on and grabbing the room key. She found her shoes, slipped them on, and readied herself to go.

"You fucking bitch! Fuck you!" he bucked wildly , but the knee socks only tightened further. Lucius' hands were already turning a wicked purple shade as she reached over and grabbed his gun. "I fucking hope you and your bastard family rot in fucking hell!"

Hannah turned and pointed the gun at her warden.

"Shut the fuck up, Lucius," she stated, pointing the 9mm at him. "I will fucking shoot you."

Lucius laughed.

"Go ahead, I'm as good as dead anyway," he challenged. "You and Ophelia are nothing more than collateral for my goddamned head. It doesn't matter that-"

"Ophelia?" she repeated. She wasn't sure she had heard that right. She kept the gun raised. Lucius cursed himself again. _This is why I was never meant for this life,_ he thought sadly. _I suck at keeping secrets._ He laughed bitterly but chocked it off. "She's here?"

Lucius knew he was a dead man. There was nothing to gain from his new status—but there was nothing to lose either.

"Yes, she's here," he answered. "I'll tell you where, if you just set me free."

Lowering her gun slightly, Hannah walked to Lucius. She ran a slow hand across his leg, and for a split second, he thought she'd change her mind. Her eyes were calm and contemplative as she looked at him. A sad smile crossed her features as he felt her hand travel near his hips. Her hand reached into his empty left pocket. The same hand drifted to the right and pushed in, giving her what she sought.

 _Car keys_. Her fingers wrapped around them and pulled them free. Lucius groaned.

"You're too fucking predictable," Hannah whispered with a cold grin. "Fucking keys to the goddamned kingdom—you have them all—and you're giving them all away." Before Lucius could speak, he felt the barrel of the gun push into his kneecap. Without a second glance, Hannah pulled the trigger, safely wedging the bullet into hard bone. His unearthly scream boomed off the dark walls. She moved to the second knee and repeated the process. This time, instead of screaming, he fell unconscious from the pain.

There was no noise, no tremble. Hannah thought she'd feel differently, especially since she'd not shot anyone before. After all, that part of it was never a piece of her original plan, but it was a welcome one. There was no fear as she looked down at the bloodied and broken sonofabitch. He'd lied to Ophelia, to her, to the whole family. A debate rose within her conscience as she struggled to keep him alive or kill him. Keeping him alive was the better option. _Let someone else do the dirty work,_ Hannah thought.

"Don't worry, I'll find Ophelia," she triumphantly whispered. She couldn't wait any longer. Gun and keys in hand, she raced out the door, not caring if anyone was on the other side. _I'll kill anyone that gets in my way._ As she walked down the unfamiliar hallway, she was overcome by silence and a sense of peace. Her gut told her that she, Lucius, and Opie were the only ones there.

"Ophelia!" She threw caution to the wind, screaming her sister-in-law's name. _Nothing._ She continued down the hallway, crying out her name. As approached the stairs, she called out once more.

"Opie! Please!" Hannah called. "It's Hannah! Please, don't be scared! I'm here to help you! Please!" Terrified sobs escaped her. _What if I don't find her?_ She couldn't stay much longer, in case anyone showed. She prayed that she could find her sister-in-law.

"Hannah!" The call was faint, but she could hear it. She stopped and called Ophelia's name once more. Another reply. _I'm getting close._ Another scream for Ophelia. One more reply. Hannah's heart was full to exploding as she found the door. _Please,_ she thought. She grabbed the key and stuck it into its slot. She almost bellowed in relief as she heard the lock click open.

 _A skeleton key_. She smiled in disbelief. _You have to be kidding me._ All the planning, all the insanity and secrecy—it was unraveled because of Lucius' idiocy. _Who the fuck put this dumbass in charge?_ His loss was their gain, but she knew that Lucius would pay with his life for his series of amateur mistakes.

There wasn't time to think of that as Hannah pushed the door open. Her mouth was slack with shock as she laid eyes on Ophelia for the first time in what seemed like years. The younger Teller was noticeably thinner, and her facial features were slightly swollen, with yellow and green bruises offering brutal decoration to her usually lovely face.

"Oh. My. God," Ophelia whispered. Her gray eyes lit up as her face dissolved into tears. "Hannah Banana!" She tried to stand, but she was dizzy. Immediately, Hannah crossed to her, her eyes filled with relieved tears. She gathered Opie into her arms, only to notice the IV.

"What's this?" Hannah asked.

"Morphine," Ophelia replied with fearful, tired eyes. Hannah's brows knitted in confusion. "Long story."

"I can see that," Hannah returned, then, "We're gonna have to pull it."

Ophelia didn't have to be told twice. "Gauze is in the nightstand. I'll hold it on."

"Do you think you can help me find his car?"

"Lucius' car?" Ophelia asked. Hannah nodded as she opened the drawer and found the gauze. Ophelia was a step ahead, peeling the IV tape from her hand. Quickly, she pulled the IV catheter from her hand, and a spot of bright red blood replaced it. Hannah quickly handed her the gauze, which Opie used to wrap her hand. Hannah searched the room for clothes, for shoes. She glanced at Ophelia's clothes—a long, short sleeved, navy cotton nightgown was all the girl had on.

"Found em," Hannah said, producing a pair of sandals from the bathroom. She bent down and placed the shoes on Ophelia's feet.

"You ready?" Hannah asked. Ophelia, still spinning from morphine residuals, nodded.

"You hold this," Hannah instructed. Hannah wielded the gun. Ophelia's free hand held the car keys.

Hannah took her hand and led her from the room. Together, they descended the staircase and ran towards the front door. Soon, they were outside, the hot August air greeting them. A long, gravel driveway stretched before them.

"Push the buttons," Hannah coolly instructed. Immediately, a car alarm split the silence. Both girls ran as fast as they could in the direction of the sound. Towards the end of the driveway sat Lucius' sleek black car.

"Gimme the keys," Hannah gently demanded. She released Ophelia's hand and took them. Ophelia went to the passenger side as Hannah entered the driver side. Once safely in the car, Hannah cranked it to life. The sound of gravel peeling away beneath the tires filled the silence. Neither really dared to breathe as they sped away from the strange house they'd been captive in.

"If I'd known it was that easy, I would've done it long ago," Ophelia stated, only half-joking. It did seem too easy. _Way too fucking easy,_ Hannah thought. With one hand, she fiddled with the car's internal GPS. As she tapped the words _Silver Spring Police Department_ into the device, she marveled at how deeply Lucius had ingrained himself into her psyche. Words, mannerisms, questions—they were all part of Lucius' supreme mindfuck. He obviously lacked confidence in his kidnapping skills, so he made escape _appear_ impossible. Closed in and vulnerable, both girls believed him—at least in the beginning. Those mind games almost ended with both she and Ophelia being killed. _I'll never allow someone to get at me like that again,_ she thought.

"You are on the fastest route. You should arrive at your destination in one hour, twenty-one minutes," the GPS intoned into the car. The girls said nothing; they simply linked hands and drove on, exhilarated. They were alive. Completely alive and completely free. 

######################################################################################################

Lucius slowly opened his eyes. Scorching pain took his breath away as his eyes adjusted to the dim overhead light. _How long have I been out?_ It felt like hours, maybe even a day, had passed. _Am I at the hospital? Do they know?_

"They got away." Lucius heard the words, but he couldn't make out the voice. The pain was too strong, too powerful, but his eyes adjusted just enough for him to know that he was still in Hannah's room. He pulled at the restraints. He was still bound.

"What-?" His question died in the air. He was not met with an answer; instead, he was met with a crushing blow to his already shattered knee-caps. He screamed and cried in agony as another blow was delivered.

"We trusted you!" The voice had to be loud to be heard amongst his screams. "We gave you the simple jobs, and you managed to fuck it up—eighteen years of work. Fucking gone! In the blink of an eye—all the plans—the late night meetings-time away from-"

"I—I—I-" Lucius interrupted, but he couldn't quite get the words out. "I-I-I'm s—s-sss-orry." His eyes were closed in reaction to his pain.

"Open your eyes." It was a demand, not a request. Lucius, unable to do anything else, complied. As his eyes focused, he saw his punisher. "I already know what happened. The girls arrived at Silver Springs PD an hour or so ago—Jack was good enough to call me on that." Brittle laughter filled the air.

"Where's J—Ja—Jack?" Lucius asked. It almost sounded like begging.

"He knows you can't be saved." It was a matter-of-fact statement. "He didn't even try to help your cause, trust me."

"Please—I'll do anything," Lucius replied.

"You should have done your job," was the reply. He closed his eyes once more as the barrel of a Glock pressed firmly against his forehead. His fate was sealed.

"Open your eyes. I want you to see my face as you die."

Cautiously, his eyes blinked open. As the room came into focus, he turned his head towards his would-be murderer. At first, his vision was so blurry that all he could make out was blonde hair; then, as the haze began to clear, he could see everything.

"Please, Sarah," he begged. "You're a mother. Please. Show me mercy-"

The last syllable died with Lucius. Sarah Sinclair was as merciful as she could be—she emptied the ammunition into his skull, satisfied with the instant kill. She hadn't expected the news of Hannah and Ophelia's escape, but she knew it didn't matter. This mission was set into motion years ago, the plan too intricate to stop, just because the kid fucked it up. It was too far gone to give up now.

 _SAMCRO will pay for what they have done,_ she thought. _As will the Tellers._ She laid eyes on Lucius one last time, ambivalent. It sucked having to kill such a young kid, but there was no room for sloppy now. This wasn't a corporate world—their world was a constant run of checks and balances.

"Damned shame," she murmured, shutting his eyes. _Just another casualty of war. It had to be done._ As she walked out she knew it was inevitable—in fact, she was surprised he'd lasted that long.

"Goodbye, Lucius." Her voice was frozen as she turned away, only looking back long enough to ensure the door shut behind her.


	36. Chapter 36

"Thank you for doing this, baby," Victor said solemnly. He watched as Delylah slid on a deep red maxi dress. It was long and flowy, and Victor watched as she walked past. A faint glimpse of leg showed through the skirt as she searched for a pair of flat, golden sandals.

"You're welcome," Delylah replied, stopping just long enough to kiss his forehead. Before he could capture her and pull her closer, she deftly escaped, focused on the task ahead. She walked over to the closet and sank to her knees, searching its depths for her favorite summer shoes. Victor couldn't help but stare at her backside as she searched. Part of him instantly regretted contacting James; he'd much rather spend the day in bed with Delylah.

"Found em!" he heard her yell. He watched as she fell back into a seated position. He laughed as she slid the shoes on. Her face was almost childlike as she triumphantly smiled at him.

"You're so beautiful, babe," Victor stated as he slowly stood. While still hospitalized, he'd come to the realization that taking his time made the likelihood of dizziness or imbalance slimmer. Delylah stood and walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her head on his broad shoulder. His hands clasped her waist. For a moment, they quietly stood, completely still, the mood suddenly somber.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, my Lala," he said with a slight smile. His mind drifted to that July night, to Abel and Hannah's wedding, where she'd stood so far away from him. He'd told her that Lala was a childish name, but now, he used it as a term of endearment. How different everything was now—how drastically everything had changed in the weeks that had passed. He couldn't even imagine going back to California now, but he knew the time would come where he'd have to go back. He was almost grateful for his injury—it bought him precious time to figure out what his next move would be.

A loud horn broke the silence. True to his word, Jax had arrived for his daughter. Delylah gently divested herself of Victor's grasp, even though she was loathe to do so.

"You comin downstairs?" Delylah said with a sweet smile.

"Of course," Victor returned. He followed her as she left the room. He felt almost human as he walked down the hallway, but when he hit the stairs, his head began to pound. He fought back nausea as he continued his descent down. Delylah had already made it to the front door, and she swung it open before Jax could reach the doorknob.

"Hey darlin," Jax said as he stepped in. Victor stood on the last step, watching Delylah embrace her father. "Victor." The older man broke away from Delylah and approached Victor.

Victor stepped down and walked forward, taking Jax's extended hand.

"Did Lala tell you what I said?" Jax asked. Victor looked at his beloved with a confused stare.

"Um…no…?"

"If James gets unruly or just plain stupid, call me," Jax stated firmly. There was a piece of Victor that was slightly annoyed. _I'm not some pussy,_ he thought for a moment. _I am capable of handling that bastard._ The dull ache in the back of his skull told him different, but true to his stubborn nature, he ignored the sensation and focused on Jax's worried glance.

"I think I can handle it," Victor said politely. His dark eyes were bright as he met Jax's eyes. Jax's mouth was set in a hard, firm line, and Victor's countenance matched that of the older man. Delylah could feel the strange tension between them, and even though she didn't understand where it was coming from, she sought to diffuse it.

"You ready, Daddy?" she asked softly, her blue eyes, eyes just like his, only sweeter and more innocent, staring into him. "James will be here any minute, and I know Thomas and Will are waiting at the police station."

Jax smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Sure, honey," he replied calmly. He looked at Victor once more. The last couple of months had changed the young man, but the stoic Marine and the consummate police officer remained. Despite the devastating blow that cracked his skull and despite the constant pain, Victor was a soldier. Before the wedding, Jax had met Victor maybe twice, and each time, he was impressed by the warrior that resided within the kid's soul. Still, beneath all the quiet strength and patience, rested a heart that seemed to beat solely for his Delylah. _I just hope she doesn't make you weak,_ he thought. _None of us can afford to be weak right now._

Jax watched as Delylah walked to Victor, and standing on tiptoe, kissed his forehead. It was incredibly chaste kiss, but the look in Victor's eyes was anything but innocent. Jax's fists clenched for a moment as he heard Tara's voice in his ears. _She's a grown woman now, Jackson. Victor's good for her. Calm the hell down._

"I love you," Jax heard Victor intently whisper. Delylah smiled as she stroked his cheek.

"Love you," she whispered back. Her eyes were wide and her jaw tight as she looked at her beloved. "Be careful with that bastard."

Jax couldn't help but smile as his daughter's words registered on his brain. Every now and then, there were moments where his girls channeled both Gemma, and he couldn't help but enjoy it. In the years since Gemma's murder, he and Tara had both come to terms with the woman Gemma Teller had been. Now, when either girl demonstrated a Gemma moment, he smiled and tried to remember the good in the woman that had birthed him. Now was one of those times. Delylah smiled up at Victor, then turned to face her father.

"Ready, Daddy," she said. Her cheeks were flushed as she walked towards him. Jax looked at Victor.

"Good luck, man." Jax's voice was quiet, but he knew that, deep down, he was beginning to really love Victor and see him as family. Part of the Teller patriarch worried about Delylah's man, because James was a goddamned nightmare to deal with. He knew Hannah's absence had taken a toll on him, as did losing Ophelia to Lucius. Jax knew the pain Victor endured reached deeper than anyone truly knew. He felt for the kid and worried about him—just like he would one of his own. Jax knew now that, even if things didn't work out between Delylah and Victor, Victor Sinclair would always be family.

"Thanks," Victor responded. He held out his hand to Jax, who grasped it. To both Delylah and Victor's shock, Jax pulled the younger man in for a quick hug. Jax clapped Victor gently on the back, and when they separated, Delylah saw the glimmer of a tear in Victor's eye. She choked up but pushed the emotion down, careful not to make the moment awkward.

Goodbyes said, Jax and Delylah turned and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind them. Within minutes, the sound of Jax's eight cylander engine rattled Victor's soul as he carefully sat in the cabin's living room. _Jax is more of a father to me than James has ever been._ The thought didn't bother him; it just made him question why he was entertaining seeing James in the first place. The thought haunted him as he sat and waited for James to show up.

######################################################################################################

The conference room was a tight space, but it was a multipurpose space if there ever was one. It was an interrogation room, a banquet room, a holding room—calling it a conference room made it sound almost professional, and this space was far from that. In reality, it was one of two rooms in the Silver Spring Police Department that had a door, which made it a convenient place to meet, nothing more. Thomas and Will sat within the confines of the small room, waiting for Jax to arrive. Small, clean, and efficient, it housed a seven foot table and eight to ten chairs, depending on who was present. There wasn't room for much else.

"I don't know why we're fucking here," Thomas angrily mumbled. "It's been almost two months since Hannah disappeared—almost a month since Lucius took Ophelia—and we have no fucking leads."

"Babe, we gotta be patient," Will said, but even he didn't subscribe to the idea. In a town the size of Silver Spring, they should have had some sort of something. Witness Protection had given the illusion that they cared about the case, but red tape from local officials made it so much harder. Althea's hands had been tied too. This wasn't California, and it certainly wasn't Charming. Her clout was formidable on the West Coast, but in the rolling Appalachians, no one knew who Althea Jarry was, and no one gave a damn about her ties.

"Fuck patience," Thomas darkly stated. "Pop isn't going to buy that shit. He's going to rip Jack Petty apart."

Will said nothing, instead he stared out the plexiglass window that separated the conference room from the hubbub of the outside world. A flash of silver and gold hair caught his eye. A haze of scarlet cotton followed. _Jax-and Delylah?_ Will's eyes widened with surprise. Jax hadn't mentioned bringing her. Usually, these meetings were an all-male affair.

The young Teller daughter wore her hair in a high, tight ballerina knot, which highlighted her creamy skin. The off-the-shoulder neckline she sported offered a stunning contrast in color, and her makeup free face was flawless. Will watched as every officer with a pulse stared at the ethereal young beauty. Will searched for signs of Victor, and not seeing him, he breathed a sigh of relief. _Not even recovery would keep Victor from busting those guys in the face,_ Will thought with a jovial smile. _Delylah is definitely off-limits._

The door clicked open. Jax and Delylah entered the room. Will and Thomas stood and exchanged embraces with Delylah. They followed suit with Jax. Niceties exchanged, they all sat and waited for the final person to show up.

"Where's Jack?" Jax asked Thomas. Will watched as they looked at one another. They were freakishly handsome. Identical eyes, identical blonde mops. Beautiful, angular jawlines. The only difference was their mouths. Thomas had Tara's fuller lips. Will loved those lips.

"The cop out there said he was running late," Thomas answered. "But he'd be here within ten or fifteen minutes."

"When was that?" Jax questioned as he sat. Will and Thomas flanked him, their backs all to the window. Delylah took a seat across from them, now facing the window.

"About twenty minutes ago," Will responded. He watched as Jax clenched his teeth in annoyance.

"Apparently, no one takes the girls' disappearances seriously in this motherfucker." Jax's voice was pure gravel as he linked his hands together. His blue eyes were fire as he anxiously waited.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Delylah's voice countered. Thomas' brows raised, and Will's mouth was agape; only Jax didn't seem surprised by his daughter's question. In fact, he smiled in response as the door crashed open. _Jack._ Jax's eyes narrowed as the portly officer made his was way to the head of the table. Like Jax and the boys, his window view was obstructed by the adjacent door.

"Nice of you to show up," Thomas drawled. It took every ounce of self-control to not punch that spoiled Teller kid in the face. It was originally supposed to be his day off, but when Jax called, he had to come running. _I do have a life outside of here, dickhead._ It was then that Jack revealed a self-satisfied smile. The people across the table didn't know he'd spent the morning with Sarah, calculating their next move. She and Jack both knew that Jax wouldn't be complacent anymore. They came to North Carolina to exact vengeance, to level the playing field, to be Karma. With that beginning, an end had to come. It was on the horizon now, but Jack was still trying to figure out _how_ Jax would learn. He knew it had to be a multi-layered reveal—it was the only way to get the pound of flesh Sarah so desperately needed.

"I was tied up in meetings," Jack stated. His dark eyes were bottomless as he stared at the Tellers and Will.

"We're not interested in your excuses," Delylah's voice rose in the silence. "What we're interested in is whether or not you have any leads on my sister and my sister-in-law."

"I mean, you've given us fucking nothing," Thomas chorused. "It makes me wonder what the hell you've done to really look for them."

"My department has followed every lead possible—"

"No, you haven't," Jax interrupted. His blue eyes were fire as they stared at Petty's mottled face. Jax could see the fury rising in the older man's eyes, and he loved every second of it.

"Mr. Teller," Petty rebutted. "There are very few leads. Whomever took Hannah was very, very good."

"You know who to took my sister," Thomas joined in. "Fucking Lucius. You have an eye fucking witness to him taking her. I have no doubt she is with Hannah—which means you _do_ know who did this. The answer's clear, as far as I can tell."

"Do you really think Lucius is alone?" Jack carefully posed the question. _Of course he's not alone,_ he thought. _Sarah and the Irish Kings are behind it. If your know-it-all-daddy looked past his dick, he would have put the pieces together._ Rage boiled in Petty's gut. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't hate Jax Teller; he'd been faking niceties for the last eighteen years. He couldn't wait for a time where he didn't have to lie anymore. He was looking forward to not having to cultivate an American accent or pretend he was happy in Silver Spring. He longed to go back home—visits weren't enough now. He had grown older in the time he'd been away. It was time to finish this and go.

"Do you think your department is capable of following the leads?" Will, ever the voice of reason, spoke now. "This is a very small town, with limited resources. I know Jax has requested WitSec presence during the investigation. Where does that stand?"

"There's so much red tape," Petty returned. It was another lie, but they didn't know that. They didn't have to know that he was the reason Althea Jarry's inquiries for help hadn't gone any further than a simple phone call. He'd steamrolled everything during this investigation. The goal was to paralyze the Tellers, then dangle Hannah in front of them. Lucius' fuck-up with Ophelia Teller now added another complicated layer they had to take care of. It was a loose end Petty knew he'd have to eventually kill off, but as he reasoned with Sarah Sinclair earlier, the girl was worth more alive than dead. _Have the Tellers show up,_ he'd told her. _Have them think her safe—then murder her in front of them._

"When is the red tape going to fucking disappear?" Thomas asked. "I mean, I'm sure there are ways Althea Jarry can circumvent the issues—if you're allowing her to do it."

Tension peaked in the room. Jack Petty eyes narrowed as he glanced in Thomas' direction. He tapped his foot impatiently, unsure of how to answer.

"So what are you gonna do, Petty?" Jax asked. "I mean, we've been friends for years. You've known Hannah and Ophelia since they were small. Why aren't you doing more to help them?"

"I am doing everything I can, Jax," he smoothly lied. "Hell, I didn't even know you were WitSec until all this went down. Until July, you were Eric Morgan. Now you have bikers and a past none of us really understand, and you expect answers overnight—"

"I just want my girls home," Jax countered. "Every single day that passes is another day lost. I'm just worried—"

"Daddy—" Delylah intervened. Her voice was shaking.

"Just a minute Lala," Jax stated. He looked at Petty once more. "I'm just worried that we're gonna end up having—"

"Daddy!" Delylah screamed. Her voice was trembling, as were her lips. Her face was pasty white, and tears drenched her beautiful face.

"What, Lala, what?!" Jax bellowed. He was frustrated—frustrated that Petty didn't have any answers, frustrated that his worst fears were coming true. "What can't fucking wait?!"

"Look," she whispered, pointing out the window. Before Jax could follow the direction, Thomas and Will had beaten him to it. A low groan escaped Thomas' lips as he began to stand. The young man wept openly as Will quickly followed suit. Both young men were standing before Jax could get a clear view, but as he turned, Will and Thomas separated enough for him to see what the commotion was about. When the answer came into clear view, it was all Jax could do keep breathing.

Just beyond the window, at the information desk, stood a now visibly pregnant Hannah and a sick, pale version of Ophelia. Jax leapt to his feet, and before any of the other could even move, he was running out the door. The sound of his sneakers squeaking across the concrete floor were the only indication of his movement. Thomas followed close to his father, and Delylah followed her brother. Only Will lingered back slightly.

"Daddy!" Ophelia's voice was strained, but it rose above the din. Within seconds, his daughter was in his arms again. Together they sobbed, clutching one another, holding on for dear life. Without a word, Hannah was pulled in, openly crying with relief. Before either formerly captive girl could open their mouths to speak, they were separately pulled into tight hugs—Hannah by Thomas and Ophelia by Delylah. Will wrapped his long arms around his lover and his sister-in-law, and Jax did the same with Delylah and Ophelia.

"How-?" Jax jaggedly began. "How did-?"

"We'll tell you everything," Hannah calmly replied. "We'll tell you all we know, but for now—"

"Shhh," Thomas whispered, looking directly Jax's watery eyes. "We've got time, Pop. We do. We've got all the time in the world now. Let's just have this moment."

Jax closed his eyes. Thomas was right. There would be time for questions later. Maybe then, he'd get the answers he sought. Right now, it didn't matter. All that mattered were Hannah and Ophelia. What mattered was that they were okay—that Hannah and Abel's baby was okay—and as Jax's eyes scanned her now prominent bump, he saw that the baby was still holding on. _They're both going to need a doctor—_ His heart began to pound, interrupting his thoughts. _Tara._ Tears began anew. _Oh God, Tara—your babies are home. They're home._

The Tellers stayed that way for a while, and the entire office went quiet. The officers that were present just stared on in silence. Some of them felt strange, like they were intruding on such a personal, intimate moment. Others felt joy because the relief and happiness emanating from the family was nothing short of amazing.

Jack Petty didn't feel either of those emotions. He stood in the conference room, unable to move. At first, when the girls came into view, fear paralyzed his heart. He didn't know what either one of them knew, nor did he know if they'd discovered Sarah—or if Lucius turned rogue and helped them escape—but either way, staying clear of them was the smart move, at least in that moment it was.

 _Ophelia and Hannah Teller are here._ The words were typed quickly, efficiently. It was mere seconds before Sarah Sinclair responded.

 _What?_ It was a simple question. Too bad it had an incredibly complicated answer.

 _Both girls just walked into the police station. Where is Lucius? Weren't you supposed to meet up with him?_ Again, no time was wasted in Sarah's response. This time, the response came in a phone call. Jack's phone vibrated in his hand. He silently closed the door.

"Aye," he answered.

"The Teller girls are at the station?" There was no hello, no greeting or salutation, just a simple question that required an immediate and simple response.

"Aye," he said, slipping into his Irish brogue. "They just—showed up."

"Lucius was supposed to be with them," Sarah said. "I'm leaving my house now to check in. I should be there soon. I'll figure out what's going on there—but you keep me updated as to what's happening there."

Petty had expected her to be furious, but she was calm—too calm. It was the eye of the storm. He'd known Sarah long enough to know that she was completely and totally capable of exacting exquisite revenge on her opponents. He'd seen it in person many times, and he knew he never wanted to be on the receiving end of Sarah Sinclair's anger.

"Aye, lady," he answered. "And ye do the same. Agreed?"

A dial tone was the answer to his question. Annoyance coursed through him, but there was nothing he could do now. He had to go out there, assess the situation, find out exactly what the girls knew. It was the only way he could see what the next move should be. Jax had relinquished his hold on his daughter. Hannah stood, almost alone, but Thomas' arm was draped carefully around her thicker waist. They still stood together, a unit united. Petty's heart pounded in his chest, but he tried to maintain control. As he walked closer to them, he knew that the game of revenge he'd been helping Sarah play hung in the balance, and any misstep, no matter how small, would destroy everything they'd spent years building.

 _You may have found your freedom,_ he thought as he neared them. _But there's no way you're going to survive._ A kind smile lit his face as he approached.

"I guess we didn't need you after all," Thomas murmured darkly the minute Petty came within earshot.

"Thomas," Will warned. "Let's just be happy they're alive, and they're here."

 _You better listen to him,_ Petty's brain yelled, even as he maintained his composure. _Because soon, your entire world will be in flames._ The cop pulled himself to his full height and ignored the comment. As he started to ask questions, a strange relief washed over him. He met Thomas' eyes for a moment, and his message couldn't have been clearer. Thomas glared and allowed a cold smile to creep across his lips. Petty returned the smile without hesitation.

 _You really have no idea what you're fucking with, kid,_ Petty thought. _You have no idea at all._


	37. Chapter 37

The best feature of Jax and Tara's mountain cabin was the front porch. It was red cedar, just like the rest of the cabin, and it wrapped around the front of the house. In the time Victor had spent there, he'd grown to adore it. He could see the each Teller's spirit dwelling there—the rainbow colored rocking chairs were all Tara. The good doctor would want something beautiful outside, a perfect complement to the cabin's country exterior. The butterfly wind chimes on either side of the steps—that was the twins. Delylah had mentioned their mutual love of the fluttery insects many times.

Victor sat heavily in the lone black rocker—Jax's chair. The perfectly laid paver stones were Thomas and Abel. It had been a gift from the boys for Jax and Tara's twentieth anniversary just two and a half years ago. Long before Hannah's disappearance, just after his wedding, Abel had proudly recounted the weekend they'd worked together. Thomas had travelled from South Carolina to help his brother. It took lots of concrete and stone, and more than their fair share of Guinness, but they managed to finish it. Victor marveled at how professional it looked. It was actually quite lovely.

Victor began to rock as he waited. As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous about James' pending arrival. The gentle rocking of the chair against the perfectly weathered cedar boards calmed him; it soothed the savage beating of his heart within his chest. He closed his eyes as a soft summer breeze tickled his face. The scent of honeysuckle and pine was distinctly Appalachian, and as he inhaled, Victor finally realized how much he missed his Southern roots.

The sound of gravel crunching caused Victor to open his eyes, and it was then that he saw James' charcoal Volvo SUV trek carefully up the driveway. A wry smile crossed Victor's lips as he watched his father meander towards the house. James was the epitome of cautiousness as he skirted gaps in the gravel.

 _You're no Jax Teller,_ Victor thought as his father slowed the Volvo to a stop. He watched as James stepped out. A long, perfectly dressed leg emerged, followed by the remainder of his body. Clad in a ruby red button-down and black slacks, he looked ever the consummate professional. It was a far cry from Abel and Hannah's wedding. The shiner Victor inflicted upon his father was long gone, but the memory was fresh. Today, James Sinclair looked good—almost human, in fact—but Victor knew better. As James walked over Abel and Thomas' stonework, he pulled his designer sunglasses off and stared at his only son.

Dr. Sinclair appeared to be a far cry from the bastard that fled Abel and Hannah's wedding. The bruises Victor had rendered across his father's face were gone now, and they'd healed well. There wasn't a trace of that angry day left on James' face. There were no remnants of the altercation. Victor didn't know whether to be happy or upset about it.

"You're looking much better," James said in greeting. He climbed the steps and stood next to his son. Typically, Victor would stand, out of respect, but today, his ass was firmly planted in the seat. _To get respect, you have to earn it,_ Victor thought.

"Thanks," Victor replied.

"May I sit?" James asked. Victor looked up at his father. He was surprised that James would ask permission of him for anything.

"I'm not stopping you," Victor stated, gesturing to Tara's brilliant blue rocker. James sat carefully, and within seconds, he was rocking, just as Victor was.

They sat in silence for a while, content to let the mountain scenery talk for them. The Appalachians were an amazing sight as they rose to meet the sapphire blue sky. Not a single cloud restricted the view. The trees were shades of emerald, sage, and pine, and they were stunning to behold.

"Dr. Kaufman does amazing work, doesn't he?" James' voice broke the silence. Victor didn't even look in his direction.

"He does," Victor replied. "I guess I should thank you for sending him in to help. It probably wasn't easy, calling a friend from Atlanta to work on your estranged, rebel son."

"You looked awful, Victor," James countered. "Your mother got to you first, before I did. She insisted that I come down and evaluate you myself."

"You—you were there?" Victor asked, shocked. He didn't even realize that, or remember it, for that matter. _How did he see me? When?_ His brain struggled to remember the details he'd obviously forgotten. "Did Delylah know?"

"She didn't see me," James explained. "I assume she knew I was there, but we were never in the room together. I mean—it's obvious that I saw you, right? How else would Dr. Kaufman be called in? He's the best surgeon on the East Coast. With all the occipital bone and nerve damage, he was the only option, in my mind."

Victor was at a loss for words. For a moment, his father actually seemed like a real father. It was a strange feeling. Again, silence reigned over them. Victor wondered what his life would've been like had James cared more— _We wouldn't be sitting here, so goddamned awkward. We'd be like a father and son should be—like Jax and Thomas and Abel._ For a moment, the younger Sinclair's heart ached for what might've been.

"It's beautiful out here," James attempted conversation. It was quite sad, really, the way the two men interacted. If Tara was there, bearing witness to this disheartening situation, she would have found a way to get them to bond. But Tara wasn't there. She was at Valley Memorial Hospital, holding Abel's hand, willing him to awaken.

"It is," Victor agreed as he continued to stare at the gorgeous landscape.

"That's why your mother picked this place to finally settle down," James said. "She wanted a good school system for you, a safe place for little Hannah. The breathtaking views were just a bonus. You can't get this kind of beauty where we were."

"Where we were?" Victor repeated. "I thought we were always—"

"Here? In Silver Spring?" James asked. He shot an incredulous look in his son's direction. "You don't remember anything?"

"Not before Hannah," Victor honestly replied. It was true. His earliest memories were of the house they'd always had in Silver Spring. He'd thought the family had always been there. That's what it felt like, anyway. Victor's mind was blown, and for some reason his heart started to thud within his chest. He didn't know if it was fear or confusion that caused the physical reaction, but he hated the sensation of it.

"I didn't even realize that," James whispered. "I just always thought—"

"You just assumed I remembered everything?" Victor countered. "Fortunately, for me, my brain has chosen to block huge pieces of my life out."

"Fortunately?" James queried.

"I don't think you'd be sitting here if my memory wasn't selective," Victor answered. "If I remembered half the shit you did to me, you'd probably be dead."

James visibly stiffened. The older man knew his son's statement was a true one. He'd been an incredible bastard to Victor. It was a necessary evil. James closed his eyes and swallowed heavily.

" _Do ye hae any idea what ye've done?" The sound of a harsh Irish brogue haunted the corners of his mind, even now. It didn't matter that twenty-two years had passed. The flashback was so vivid and so real, chills raced up and down his spine as he struggled to maintain his composure. James opened his eyes, suspended in memories. Suddenly, he was standing in the middle of an Irish flat. A strange chaos filled the air, even though everyone was seated and quiet._

" _Yes," James responded to the question. "I fell in love."_

" _Love?!" The word was an explosion. "What the hell do ye know about love?"_

 _James turned in the direction of the voice. No matter how many times James relived the memory, the sight of his father-in-law rendered him speechless. Declan Brogan was a formidable opponent, and his dark eyes threatened to eat his soul. Even though James feared the old man, there was no doubt that he'd earned the privilege that only came with being one of the Irish Kings, the ruling council of the True IRA._

" _I know it's not here," James drawled. "Your ice queen daughter is an example of that."_

 _There was no roar of outrage, no scream of fury; the only sound in the room was Declan quickly divesting himself of his comfortable seat. Lunging forward, he was a flash of power as he spanned the room and grabbed James' throat. His deep brown eyes were murderous as he stared his son-in-law down._

" _Tread lightly, ye bastard," Declan cautioned. "I'll split ye balls to brain if ye keep talkin."_

 _James' dark eyes clashed with his father-in-law's. Insults galore rested on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them to himself._

" _Papa, please! Don't kill him!" Sarah's voice rang in the air. "Please! He's Victor's father!"_

 _If Declan Brogan had an Achilles heel, it was his daughter. She was his only child; she was his only link to the past. Her mother had been murdered in a rogue car bombing, and for the majority of her life, she'd been Declan's only connection to life outside of the terrorist organization. Hearing the anguish in Sarah's voice, Declan relinquished his hold on James' throat and went back to his chair._

" _He doesn't deserve to have that boy," Declan proclaimed. "And he sure as hell doesn't deserve you, not after consorting with that whore."_

 _She's not a whore! James' mind bellowed. He was smart to keep his mouth shut. I love her!_

" _Whether he deserves it or not," Sarah replied. "He still has a son. Victor is innocent. Please don't punish your grandson by killing his father."_

" _That's not your decision," Declan declared. "Your husband made that decision the minute he climbed into bed with Jimmy O's little slut."_

" _She's not a slut," James retaliated. His mouth was a firm, hard line._

" _Ask Chibs Telford about her, then," Declan said. A wolfish grin split his face as James grimaced in fury. "She had no problem jumping back and forth between O'Phelan and Telford—and now, she's moved on to you. And you just let that happen."_

 _A scream of rage bubbled in his belly. It swelled and ached terribly, until he had no choice but to release it. As his cries swelled and escaped his throat, he saw nothing but red—and his fury wouldn't be satisfied until he killed every motherfucker in the room._

The sound of twinkling bells shattered James' reverie. He blinked suddenly, and the Irish flat was gone. Declan Brogan had disappeared. Sarah stopped screaming. James was back on Jax and Tara's front porch. The Appalachians were back in sight.

He glanced around, and he saw Victor answer his phone. His son immediately stopped rocking. James couldn't help but turn and observe.

"I don't—I don't understand, Jax." Victor's voice was a mix of confusion and wonder. James watched as he slowly stood and began to carefully pace. Victor didn't speak, but James could hear the sound of Jax's rumbling voice. There was the occasional _yeah_ or _uh-huh,_ but other than that, Victor was the one doing the listening. By the time he hung up the phone, he'd uttered barely five syllables throughout the conversation.

"What happened?" James asked. His curiosity was piqued even as his mind raced with fucked up memories. Victor turned and faced his father. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he stared at his father.

"That was Jax," Victor began. "He called to—" His voice caught again.

"Called to what?" James questioned.

"To let me know that-that they-that they found the girls," Victor wept. A torrential downpour of tears flowed from his eyes. The tears and the sobs were so powerful that Victor couldn't catch his breath. He braced himself on the porch railing and allowed the tears to fall. There was no point in stopping them, not now.

James, thinking the absolute worst, went to Victor's side. He wasn't sure if he should embrace him. He opted to touch the kid's shoulder instead.

"Victor?" James' voice rose above the sobs. "Victor—are they-?" He couldn't bear to finish the sentence. He couldn't imagine Hannah dead. After her kidnapping, it was the one outcome he couldn't handle. It was absolutely non-negotiable. _They can't be dead, please no—_

Victor's eyes looked up to meet his. The agony that resided within them was almost too much. As tears filled James' eyes, he fought the sensation of dread that blossomed within his chest. _Fuck no, please no…_

"They're alive, Dad," Victor breathed. "They found them alive."

Relief washed over James. Unable to help himself, he sank to the porch and sat there for a moment, shell-shocked.

"They're alive?" James asked. Victor nodded.

"Alive—Ophelia, Hannah, the baby-all alive."

"My God," James sighed. "I can't fucking believe it."

"Me either," Victor replied. "I really did think the worst. God help me, I did."

"I did too," James admitted. "I did too."

The two men sat next to one another, amazed and completely confused. Another breeze wound around them, and Tara's rainbow chairs began to rock on their own. It was then that James looked at Victor—at his battered skull and his tear-streaked face—and he remembered just how much he truly loved him.

 _God, I wish I'd been better. If I could go back, I'd change everything._ His throat ached with tears. _I wouldn't listened to Declan or your mother. I wouldn't have lived in fear of what Declan would do._

"You wanna go see them?" James asked. Victor glanced at him. He had no idea how to respond. He'd never seen James like this—disheveled, wary, exhausted, old. But it didn't make a difference now; James was Hannah's father. Regardless of their history, Victor knew that he needed to see his daughter—and he also knew he wouldn't go without him.

"Yeah, I'll go," Victor decided. With a slight, sad smile, James stood. Reaching a hand out to his son, he was surprised when Victor grabbed it and used it for leverage so he could stand as well. Victor walked away, heading towards the car. James hesitated, watching as Victor ambled slowly towards the car.

 _I don't know what's weirder—_ James thought. _Victor calling me Dad or Hannah being found alive._ As he followed his son, he realized it didn't matter—both were astounding. He smiled with the thought. _It's just fucking incredible. I guess miracles really do happen, after all._


	38. Chapter 38

Ophelia was exhausted. It'd been a very long time since she'd seen daylight, but between the police questioning, the family reunion, and the lack of morphine, she couldn't keep her eyes open.

"You okay, baby?" Jax's voice broke through her stupor, and she opened her eyes. The bright internal lights of the ambulance made her head pound. She saw Jax cast a glance in the EMT's direction, and immediately, the overhead fluorescents were extinguished.

"I'm alright, Daddy," she answered. "Just really, really tired. I just haven't been out of bed—" Her voice trailed off, and she fell asleep. Jax wiped her hair away from her face and stared at his broken daughter.  
She'd been through so much, as had Hannah. He'd been present when Jack Petty questioned them. He fought back tears as he played the moments back in his mind.

" _So you're telling me that Lucius had you hooked to a continuous morphine pump?"_ Petty had asked.

"Yes," Ophelia replied. _So did you, you sonofabitch,_ she thought. She had enough Teller within her DNA to know when to let certain information go. She was smart enough to realize that the hefty officer was not the mastermind behind this madness. There was someone bigger, more connected behind it. Until more clues surfaced as to who that person was, Ophelia wasn't going to tell a soul about the Jack Petty connection.

She could see Petty searching her face, trying to assure himself that she had no clue what was going on. _You're caught, you bastard,_ her brain screamed, but her face a perfect study in cluelessness. She hadn't even told Hannah of what she knew. It was easier keeping a secret if no one else knew it. Hannah was better off not knowing; this way, her sister-in-law could focus on Abel getting better and eventually welcoming their first child into the world.

"And you, Hannah? Were you drugged at all?" Petty turned to Abel's wife.

"Not since they took me," she replied. It was now Petty's turn to harbor a secret. None of them knew that he was the one that took Hannah. It had been far easier than even he'd anticipated. Lucius had called him from the shop to let him know Hannah was alone—they'd been waiting for the opportunity since Jax and Tara had left, and they had been running out of time.

Petty's head filled with the memory as he pretended to focus on Hannah's answers. After Lucius' phone call, he headed towards the Tellers' house. He'd brought his personal vehicle to the house. For once, he was grateful for the fake friendship he'd had with Jax—it gave him insight on their property. That's how he knew of the small gulley on the edge of the property. It was shallow enough for him to park the truck there, but deep enough where no one could see him at all, not even Hannah.

"Do you remember being taken?" Petty questioned. He was careful with his words. He didn't want any suspicion to lie with him. _Because I remember,_ he thought.

 _Entering the house had been easy_. The door had been unlocked. Silver Spring was a small enough town that few people cared about locked doors. Bad things typically didn't happen there. That's why WitSec chose it for the Tellers, not realizing that housing the fugitives in such a tight-knit place only opened the family up to being found. Petty worried about Hannah being completely alone, but Lucius had assured him at the time that Hannah was the only one in the house.

As he hit the top of the stairs, he spied her, laying alone in Abel's bed, fast asleep.

 _This is way too goddamned easy,_ he thought as he advanced towards her. For a moment, he stood, just watching her sleep. After those first few seconds, he reached deep in his pocket and produced a small vial and a syringe. _Propofol._ Petty smiled. _Knocks em out every time._

She only woke once the syringe punctured her skin. If she saw Petty, she wouldn't remember it. Her reaction to the Propofol was immediate, and it provided him enough time to trash the place and make it look like a struggle. He made quick work of it all, and before Ophelia and Delylah could get back from their outing, Hannah Teller was safely in Jack Petty's truck, headed towards her elegant prison.

Hannah shook her head in the negative.

"I don't remember anything," she stated. Her hands rested on her belly. She protectively rubbed her abdomen, content with the flutters of life within. There was a strange calm about her, but Petty was certain she hadn't linked him to her disappearance.

Hours passed, and Petty, satisfied with the girls' responses, made arrangements for them to receive medical attention. Given their separate and delicate conditions, a hospital checkup was required. As he had with Victor, Jax insisted that Hannah and Ophelia go to Valley Memorial. The hospital had been good to them, and Jax, once comfortable with something, was loathe to let it go. It wasn't long before the ambulances arrived. Each girl had her own. Ophelia was loaded into one, Hannah in the other. Jax quickly boarded with his daughter, leaving Delylah to pile in with Hannah. Thomas and Will

 _All the Tellers under one roof,_ Jax thought sadly. He'd already alerted Tig and Althea of their unbelievable good fortune, but he'd given strict instructions to _not_ tell Tara or Venus. Jax wanted Tara to find out by laying eyes on both girls, not hearing it from his lips. This would leave no room for doubt. That was the best way to inform her, and Jax knew if Venus caught wind of any of it, she'd tell Tara immediately. After all the Teller matriarch had been through, she deserved a beautiful reunion with Ophelia and Hannah. He knew Venus meant well, but he also knew that the excitement she'd feel having the girls home would be hard for Tig's wife contain.

He could feel his phone vibrating as he stroked Ophelia's hair. He knew it was Tara, and as much as it pained him to do so, he ignored it.

"I'll be there soon, baby," he whispered. "Just be patient with me."

#######################################################################

Tara was far from patient as she clicked her phone off. She knew she wouldn't see Jax—they'd agreed on that before he left—but it wasn't like him not to answer her calls or her texts. Suddenly, she was catapulted back to Charming, to a time where she wouldn't hear from him for days. Her memory was full of Gemma, of Clay, of Otto. Smatterings of Nero and Unser haunted her as well, and she closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. _This isn't the same thing,_ she thought. _We're not going back there._

"Everything okay, darlin'?" Venus' voice forced her eyes open. She'd been with Tara for a couple hours now. Tig had requested her presence, stating that he and Althea had some business to attend to back in Silver Spring. What Venus didn't know is that they were both at the police station with Jack Petty, trying to put together the clues from the girls' questioning. They'd arrived just as the ambulances did, and yet another small reunion happened.

"This is fucking crazy," Althea breathed as Delylah climbed in Hannah's ambulance. The EMT closed the doors behind them and jumped into the driver's seat.

"Tell me about it," Jax said low. His pale blue eyes were glossy with unshed tears. He couldn't believe how everything just fell into place like this. Now, they just needed to figure out who was behind it all. Althea knew, just as Jax and Tig did, that once they figured that part out, they'd know who killed Chibs. She couldn't wait for that day. Revenge boiled in her blood, and she ached to exact it on their elusive enemy.

"What do you need us to do?" Tig was just as hungry for redemption; Jax could see it in his icy eyes.

"Stay here, help Jack," Jax said quietly. "From what Hannah and Op said, they weren't in some nasty hovel. Their accommodations were pretty fucking posh, actually. The car is brand new. GPS had to get them here, figure out what happened with that. Maybe this will be seamless."

"For some reason, I don't think that will be the case," Althea interjected. Her gut told her to not trust the ease of all this. Her gut also told her that there was something fucked up within the Silver Spring PD. She'd never run into as many issues in an investigation. She'd never had so many road blocks. She wasn't sure of who was behind it all, but she knew deep down, it all rested with Jack Petty. She just needed concrete proof before she went to Jax about it, and she was waiting for that from outside sources.

"I feel better with you here," Jax replied, and Althea nodded. Tig rested his hand on Jax's shoulder.

"We'll figure it out," Tig promised. "We always do."

"Thank you, Brother," Jax said softly. He reached out and hugged the older man, then turned and hugged Althea as well. They stayed while Jax left for the hospital.

########################################################################

Tara had no idea that Tig and Althea had stuck by the police station. She had no idea that Jax was headed her way, having left the station almost two hours ago. All she knew was that her husband wasn't answering her calls, and that could never come to any good.

"I'm fine, Venus," Tara said. Venus looked at her friend, and worry filled her. She could see the weariness in Tara's hazel eyes. It had been ages since she'd bothered with makeup. Her long, dark hair was in a perpetual ponytail, and her uniform of jeans, a plain t-shirt, and sneakers only made her look worse.

"You're not fine, sugar," Venus countered. "Why don't you go to the cabin for a bit? Get some rest, take a shower in your own bathroom?"

Tara's eyes were blank as they stared through Venus. She didn't bother speaking; she just shook her head, and turned her eyes back to Abel. Being weaned off the machines was the only good thing Tara could see, but even that came with possible problems. _What happens when you wake up and ask for Hannah? Will you remember what happened? Will you remember anything?_

"I know you're scared," Venus murmured as she stood and walked over to her old friend. "I'm not a conventional mama by any means, but I am a mama too. Joey is over thirty, and I still worry about him every single day. He's married with a baby on the way, and I still see him as a little kid. I'm still trying to protect him from my demons."

Tara blinked and looked up at Venus. It took one helluva woman to endure almost two decades within SAMCRO, and Tara knew that Venus had bigger odds stacked against her. Her relationship with Tig, when it began, was extremely difficult; not for them, really, but for everyone else. Her complicated, gender fluid identification of herself was not widely accepted. The fact that their love was still going strong was not just a testament of Tig's complete infatuation with her, but it was a testament to Venus' pure, gentle spirit. Despite the chaos Chibs' arrival brought, she was more than grateful to have Venus back in her life.

"We never quite let them go, do we?" Tara asked, leaning back against her friend's perfectly pressed slacks. Venus stroked Tara's ponytail, and Tara was content to let her do it.

"I don't reckon so," Venus replied. "They say it's worse when you're a grandma." Venus cringed at her own choice of words. "Tara, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't worry about it," Tara said. "My grandbaby is going to be fine. I have to believe that. I just have to."

Venus nodded mutely. She couldn't imagine Joey's wife being the same kind of danger Hannah was in. She couldn't imagine losing her grandchild. Tears welled up in her eyes. The thought consumed her for the moment, and she could not concentrate on nothing else.

"Your phone is buzzing," Tara broke into her thoughts. Venus came back to reality. She gently removed her fingers from Tara's hair and grabbed her phone off the rolling table. Jax's name lit up the screen, confusing her, but she answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"Don't tell her it's me, Venus," Jax quickly instructed. There was no time for hellos.

"Oh—Okay," Venus said with a strange, false smile. "Hold on just a minute." She pulled the phone from her ear and looked at Tara. "I'm gonna take this is the hallway, darlin." Tara nodded, her gaze back on Abel. Venus walked out of the room, her heels clicking on the sterile, white tiles. She closed the door gently behind her.

"What the hell is going on, Jax?" she whispered. "Tara has been worried sick about you—why aren't you answering her calls?"

"Come downstairs, Venus. I'm by the emergency room. You'll understand when you get down here. Just don't tell Tara where you're going. Promise?"

"Okay," she breathed. "See you in a minute." She didn't bother telling Tara anything—it would be easier that way. _She won't even know I'm gone,_ she thought as she made it to the nearby elevator. Her heart pounded as she pushed the button to the first floor. It seemed to take forever to make it there, but once she did, she found herself walking fast towards the ER. It didn't take long for her to arrive there, but when she didn't see Jax, she was confused. She wandered for a second, looking for him, but as she walked by the sliding glass doors, she caught a shock of silvery-gold hair. _There you are._ She rushed out the door.

"Jax!" Venus called. He turned in her direction, and a tremulous smile spread across his lips. Just behind him two ambulances. As she neared, she was shocked to see Delylah jump from one of them. Will and Thomas were crossing the parking lot to meet them.

"Venus," Jax said softly as he spanned the distance between them.

"What is going on? Is Alex with you?" she looked around for her husband, but she couldn't find him. "Is Althea?"

"No, they're at the police station with Jack Petty," he explained as he grabbed her hand. "C'mon." He took off, and it was either follow or fall. Within seconds, they were nearing the EMTs, who now stood outside the ambulances, doors open, ready to unload their precious cargo.

Jax, unable to hold it in anymore, brought her to the back ambulance. The doors were open.

"What's going on?" she asked once more. Her dark eyes were confused.

"Just look inside," Jax responded, stepping aside. Venus listened, and she peered around the door. It was then her eyes grew wide, and she gasped.

"Venus," Ophelia whispered with a huge smile. Venus couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She thought she'd never see the young girl alive again. She looked rough—her face still sported a couple of yellow-green bruises. Beneath the discoloration, she was paler than usual, and her gorgeous red hair looked dull and limp, but Ophelia Teller was alive, and she would quickly return to her former glory, of that Venus had no doubt. She turned and looked at Jax, who was speaking quietly to Delylah.

"Opie! Oh God," she cried. Reaching into the ambulance, she grabbed the younger girl's hand and squeezed. A brilliant smile lit Venus features as let go, allowing the EMTs to pull her gurney out. She turned back to Jax. "I can't—how—what the hell? How did you-?" She couldn't speak. It was insane. Jax had managed to, in less than a day of concentrated searching, found his daughter. "Is Hannah here too?"

"On her way inside," Jax explained, nodding in her direction. Delylah walked by her side, oblivious to what was going on around them. Just over Jax's shoulder, she could see Thomas and Will entering the hospital, and there was no doubt that they were running to Abel's room to get Tara. By then, Venus realized, both Ophelia, who was being pulled from the ambulance, and Hannah, who was already inside, would be settled in the ER bays.

"What happens now?" Venus asked. "Are Alex and Althea coming back?"

"Later on," Jax stated. "As soon as they make sure they've covered every base." Venus nodded. For a moment, a stab of sadness took over. Any second, she'd be surrounded by the Tellers and their reunions, and she couldn't help but feel like an outsider, like she was intruding.

"Let's go in," Venus said. "Tara will be down any minute, and she's going to be floored."

Jax nodded and walked toward the ER doors. Venus followed. The lights were bright and intrusive as she spied the two girls. Ophelia, who was in poorer health, already had triage nurses in her bay. Jax asked Petty to call ahead and alert the staff, and he was pleased that his old friend came through. Venus, smiled reassuringly and walked past her, knowing that she would be able to sit with her, once everything settled. Seeing Delylah hovering by the open curtain of the next bay, Venus walked to her. Delylah smiled openly and wrapped Venus in a tight, friendly embrace. As they broke apart, Delylah turned and faced Hannah. Abel's wife's eyes were wide as she took Venus in. She almost appeared judgmental. _Maybe I think too much,_ she thought.

"I see my reputation proceeds me," Venus chuckled nervously. It'd been a long time since she had to explain herself; even here, in the depths of redneck country, she rarely had to answer to anyone, because no one really asked about her past or present. If they couldn't accept her, they simply ignored her. She preferred it that way, but as Hannah eyed her, Venus couldn't make out her thoughts. That's what made her nervous.

"This is Venus Trager," Delylah explained. "Tig's amazing wife." She turned and faced Venus once more. "I told her all about y'all—all of y'all. About how much you've helped—about how amazing you are."

"I'm so glad to meet you," Hannah said as she smiled. "Your reputation definitely proceeds you—but it's all good things. There's much to take in right now—"

"I can only imagine," Venus replied with a heartfelt smile. She was relieved that it was just her being overwhelmed. She had been genuinely worried.

"I don't know why I'm even here." Tara's voice rang, loud and clear. "I don't like leaving your brother alone, you know that."

"Trust me, Mama," Thomas said. "Abel will be fine, and you won't be disappointed."

Venus turned just in time to see Jax speed by and intercepted Tara.

"What the hell, Jax?" Tara asked as he approached her. "You can't be bothered to answer my calls, and now you want to fucking surprise me? I don't have time for this shit—" They were still walking. Now, less than a few feet away from Hannah, Jax patiently allowed her rant. She saw nothing but him as she continued walking. Thomas and Will, who now trailed behind, were an afterthought. She didn't see Venus or Delylah. All she saw was red as Jax walked next to her.

"Babe, I—" Jax tried to respond, but Tara stopped him.

"No," she stated as she stopped in her tracks. "I'm going back upstairs. Instead of buying me surprises, maybe you should find our daughters."

Jax gritted his teeth in a mix of annoyance and frustration. His blue eyes flashed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back in the other direction.

"No," Jax retorted. "You're coming with me. I'm sorry that I didn't call or text, babe, but I'm not going to let your anger fuck this up."

Tara glared at him as she followed. As she neared Hannah's bay, she opened her mouth to speak, but as she glanced in the other direction, she abruptly stopped. Her mouth gaped open, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"Hannah?" her voice cracked. She looked to Jax, dumbstruck. Her eyes hungrily drank the girl in before she rushed by her side. Unable to help herself, Tara wrapped Hannah in a tight, fast embrace, and she was shocked at the belly her daughter-in-law now sported. As they broke apart, Tara saw Hannah's eyes fill with tears.

"Is Abel awake?" Hannah carefully asked.

"Not yet, baby," Tara crooned. "Tomorrow morning. They're weaning him down every few hours. As long as he holds on through the night, Dr. Parker says he'll be completely off by then. When he wakes up is anybody's guess."

Hannah brushed away the tears that fell down her cheeks and nodded in understanding.

"I'll get to see him, right? Can I be there?" Hannah had waited so long for this moment; she never imagined Abel not being awake. She couldn't believe he'd been sick for so long. She silently prayed for her husband, unsure of what else to do.

"As long as your doctor clears it," Jax answered for Tara. "I know you want to see Abel, but we have to see if the baby is okay too." Hannah nodded once more.

"I'm so glad you're alright, Hannah," Tara whispered.

"I'm actually feeling okay—I'm just glad Op and I could make it out," Hannah replied. Tara's hazel eyes widened, and she turned to Jax again.

" _Op?"_ Tara wasn't sure she heard that right. " _Ophelia?"_ She looked at Jax again, whose face broke into a wide, heartbreakingly beautiful grin. He cocked his head in the direction of the adjacent bay. Before anyone could utter a syllable, Tara was up and running next door. Before Jax could round the corner, he could hear Tara's jubilant cries of relief.

"Ophelia Rose," she sobbed. "Oh my God." Jax peeked his head around the curtain. Tara had all but cradled the long, lean girl in her arms. Pure joy was etched across his wife's face as she rocked back and forth, holding the child that had been so lost.

"Mama," Ophelia murmured sleepily. "I'm okay. I got out. I'm free." Jax leaned against the wall, arms crossing the wide expanse of his chest as he watched mother and daughter reunite. Thomas and Delylah had followed, while Will remained by Hannah's side. Delylah turned slightly and saw Venus heading towards the elevator, and she knew that Mrs. Trager was going to sit by Abel, since Tara was happily, otherwise occupied. Tara pulled away from her child and carefully cradled Ophelia's still discolored face in her hands.

"You're also fucking grounded," Tara smiled in jest. "You're not going any-fucking-where. Not for a long, long time."

The room dissolved in good-natured laughter, but Delylah watched her twin carefully stare back at their mother. She half-expected Ophelia to fight, to rally against the joke. After all, her mood was so tumultuous before Lucius took her, one never knew how she'd react. Ophelia's face was blank for a second, and Delylah thought the worst. _Please, Op. Don't—_

"Agreed," Ophelia said, a tired, but finally relaxed grin upon her face. "I'm not leaving your side any time soon."

For the moment, the world was right again. _If Abel wakes up,_ Delylah thought, _We just might be okay._ It was then that Delylah and Thomas looked at one another and breathed in relief. The Tellers were still a functioning, whole family unit—at least for the time being.


	39. Chapter 39

Victor and James arrived at the hospital just as Hannah and Ophelia were being moved to private rooms. Still shocked by the news that _both_ girls were found and were basically okay, they didn't speak much on the way in. James swung the car into doctor's parking and cut the engine. For a second he sat there, unable to move. Victor looked over. James' hands were trembling as he relinquished his hold on the steering wheel.

"James?" Victor's voice filled the confines of the car. The word _dad_ was long gone. With the reality of the girls being found alive and safe firmly sunk into his mind, Victor obviously regained his hatred and wrapped it around himself, using it as a blanket to protect himself from his father's pain.

"Yeah," he responded. "I'm good. Let—let's go inside. See the girls." With an almost imperceptible nod, Victor opened the door and got out. James did the same, and they walked towards the hospital. As the approached the double doors, Jax was the first face they saw. Standing tall and dressed in a plain black t-shirt and jeans, he looked far younger than his fifty-one years. He had his phone to his ear.

"Yeah, Lyla," Victor could her him say. "They just walked into the police station—like it was just a normal day—like they hadn't been held captive all that time. They're good. The doctors are moving Hannah to Labor and Delivery." Jax paused for a moment once Victor and James came into view. "No, no—she's fine. Tara said that's a normal precaution when you're past five months. They're gonna check her out over the next couple days."

Jax nodded and smiled in Victor's direction, but his face grew cold once his eyes met James'. James' pocket vibrated as his phone rang. Pulling it from his jeans, he glanced at the screen. Sarah's number flashed, and he picked up.

"Hello?" James answered. He began to pace as Jax finished his call with Lyla. Now Victor was at Jax's side, talking low. Both of them glanced occasionally at James, but neither moved to go inside.

"James?" Sarah's familiar lilt filled his ears. "I'm sorry I didn't answer earlier. I was helping one of the search parties and we found nothing at all. I tell you James, if Jack Petty hadn't been there—"

"Sarah, they found them," James interrupted.

"What?" she whispered. "Found Hannah?"

"Yeah—and Ophelia Teller. Victor and I just got to Valley Memorial now," James explained.

"Is she—" Sarah began, then trailed off. James knew she couldn't say the words.

"She's alive," he stated. "And the baby appears to be alright. I just heard Jax say they're admitting her to L&D for observation."

A sigh of relief was followed by tears. James stopped moving as he listened to his wife cry. He hated that sound more than anything in the world, not because he loved her, but because the sound harbored too many bad memories.

"I'm on my way," Sarah said. James nodded and locked eyes with Victor. He looked so much like his wife; his son's eyes could cut through him, just as Sarah's did. He couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like had he not been the iron hand in Victor's life.

"Good," James said. "You need to be here." He hung up the phone and walked towards Jax and Victor.

"Sarah is on her way," he stated. Jax's eyebrows went up, but he said nothing. The disdain was more than apparent as the three men stood there. None of them seemed to know what to say or how to say it.

"Where was she?" Victor asked. James ignored his question and stared through him. Victor could sense discord within the older man, but he had no idea what to do about it. Their relationship was beyond fixable at this point, regardless of anything they shared at Jax's cabin. That moment had been a strange indiscretion, nothing more. Victor wanted to forget it.

"She said something about a search," James said dismissively. "I told her the girls were here, and she'll be here soon. Where's Hannah?"

"Getting an ultrasound," Jax said. "Tara is with her." _And that's the only mother she really needs,_ he thought as he stared at James' unreadable face. _I mean, with parents like you, being alone would be better._ James nodded.

"I'll wait to go in," James stated. "I'll wait for Sarah. Victor can go in and see Hannah without me."

"Are you sure, James?" Victor asked. The move took him by surprise.

"Yeah," James answered with a sad smile. "She probably doesn't even want to see me anyway. It's fine, son. You go in." Completely taken off-guard, Victor could only mutely nod.

"We'll see you when Sarah gets in," Jax said low. Putting an arm around Victor's shoulder, he led the young man into the hospital.

#####################################################################################

"Do you want to know what you're having?" The ultrasound tech, a tall, curvy ebony goddess smiled brilliantly as she moved the wand over Hannah's burgeoning belly. Hannah's eyes grew wide as she watched the baby move. The whole moment was surreal. She'd spent the last few months feeling her little one kick at her insides, so she knew the baby was real, but seeing squirming legs and arms come alive was amazing.

"Do you, Hannah?" Tara asked. Hannah looked at her mother-in-law, feeling blessed to have Tara by her side. The Tellers were scattered across various floors of the hospital; Hannah, now close to six months pregnant, was ushered to Labor and Delivery for monitoring. Ophelia was on the Medical / Surgical floor, with Delylah, Thomas, and Will by her side. Abel still lingered in ICU, with Althea, Venus, and Tig standing by, waiting for the doctors to extubate whole Teller situation was beyond weird—and it was the talk of Valley Memorial Hospital.

"I don't know," Hannah whispered, her gray eyes sad. "I feel wrong knowing before Abel does."

The ultrasound tech, whose nametag read _Iris_ , stared back with the most compassionate eyes Hannah had ever seen. They were dark, bottomless pools of empathy that almost brought the pregnant woman to tears.

"I could always write it down," Iris said kindly. "Give it to your mama and have her keep it. Then you can save it until your husband can be with you." The ultrasound tech had heard about her patient's circumstances, and she couldn't believe how calm and collected Hannah was. _Your man is holding on for dear life, you just got out of being held captive, and you look amazing._

 _My mother isn't even here,_ Hannah thought bitterly, but turning her eyes back to Tara's gorgeous face, she smiled. _But my mama definitely is._ Tara had always been there for her. It began when Victor took off to California. After that, James and Sarah constantly argued, and Hannah just couldn't take it. There were many nights spent in Delylah and Ophelia's rooms, and now, after all the insanity and tragedy, Tara and Jax had stood so steadfastly by her side. They weren't related by blood yet, but she couldn't wait for the baby to be born and change that.

"I think that's a good compromise," Hannah said to Tara. "Once Abel wakes up, you can tell us both together." Hannah's eyes were so full of hope, and it was that look that took Tara's breath away. _I must have looked like that once,_ she thought. _I don't look like that anymore._ She knew these last couple of months had aged her, no matter what Jax told her. _I hope you can always look like that, Hannah._ Tara smiled through tear-filled eyes.

"I can't wait," she replied. _I just hope Abel wakes up._ It was a persistent thought in the back of Tara's mind, and it had been since they'd gotten back to Silver Spring. It was a very real possibility. He'd been under for a very long time. She pushed the thought of Abel's extubation out of her mind and focused on the new life on the screen. _You're gonna wake up, son._ She blinked back tears. _You just have to._

"Hey there," Jax's voice entered the room as he peeked his head through the curtain. His eyes immediately went to the ultrasound screen, and they lit up. Tara smiled, unable to help herself. She remembered that look. It was the same one he had when she was pregnant with Thomas. She'd never forget that look. Ever.

"Hey Gramps," Iris said with a jovial wink. "C'mon in and see this baby. It's an active one."

"I have a surprise for the mama-to-be," he said sweetly. His head disappeared from behind the curtain, and as he opened it, Hannah gasped.

"Victor!" she almost jumped from the table when she saw him. Now openly crying, she smiled broadly as her brother walked over to her. Tara moved out of her seat next to Hannah to allow Victor a chance to sit. The second Hannah saw the bandages on the back of Victor's head.

"What happened?" she gasped.

"Miss Hannah," Iris said softly, "The more you wiggle, the less the baby wiggles."

"Sorry, Miss Iris," she murmured with a smile. Her gray eyes lit with happiness as she glanced at Victor. Despite her confinement, she looked good. Healthy. For that, Victor was grateful. His little sister had been talking about being a mother. _Had Lucius taken that from her-_ he thought, shivering with disgust. _The bastard is as good as dead anyway. Just let me find him._

"It's a long story," Victor whispered back. "We'll worry about it after we look at my little niece or nephew."

Iris swept the wand across Hannah's belly, and clicked away at the keyboard, taking measurements as she moved. Jax and Tara stood by the curtain; Jax had his wife wrapped in a tight embrace. It was so surreal—the girls were okay—the baby was okay—Abel would be waking up soon. Still, the thought of the Irish lingered in Jax's mind. He knew the danger was far from gone. None of the kids would be alone now. There was safety in numbers. He'd even thrown around the idea of having everyone schlep out to Charming. There seemed to be less danger in his hometown than there was in Silver Spring.

"This baby looks great," Iris said with a mega-watt grin as she finished the scan. "I'm gonna forward this report to your OB/GYN, and we'll get you up to your room."

"Okay," Hannah said with a tremulous smile. Relief swept over her face as Victor squeezed her hand. "Thank you Iris."

"You're welcome, sweet girl," she replied, squeezing the other hand. I'll get that envelope to your mama in just a minute." Hannah squeezed Iris' hand in return, and she watched as Iris moved to leave the room. Before she pulled the curtain, Iris stopped by Tara.

"Can I hug you?" she asked. Tara's hazel eyes widened with surprise.

"I know I sound crazy," Iris said quietly, her eyes filling with tears. "But I just have this overwhelming urge to just embrace you."

The humility in the stranger's eyes was palpable. It overwhelmed Tara, and to her surprise, it amazed her and filled her with an odd sensation. It was a mix of love, of understanding, of openness. Without even answering Iris, Tara grabbed her and embraced her.

"Thank you, lady," Iris said sweetly as they broke apart. "God bless you and that great family."

"Thank you Iris," Tara replied. Still shocked, she didn't know how or why that happened, but she learned long ago that when such pure emotion presented itself, she couldn't ignore it. There were many moments since all the madness began where Tara wondered if she'd lost all good emotion. All she felt the last few months was sadness, worry, and anger. Iris' simple request was just a reminder of the side of herself Tara thought she'd lost.

"Maybe we can actually make it through this, Jax," she whispered to her husband, and for a moment, she actually believed it.

#####################################################################################

Jack Petty pulled into the hospital parking lot. It'd been a long, crazy day, and he'd been working damage control for most of it, and it wouldn't be over until Lucius' body was buried in a shallow grave and all traces of him were removed from the mansion. Jack knew that sleep was far off, but he knew there would be nights like these. It came with the territory.

Sliding out of the narrow confines of the cop car, he quickly walked towards Valley Memorial. The sooner this "check-in" was over, the better. To his surprise, James Sinclair stood outside, gazing at his phone. He prayed that Sinclair didn't see him, but that prayer fell on deaf ears. The doctor's eyes met the sheriff's, and Jack was obligated to stop.

"Dr. Sinclair," he said with a fake smile. "It's good to see you. I bet you're happy to beat all hell." The last words were tight as they left Jack's mouth.

"Yeah Jack, I am," he said politely. There was something about the portly officer that always rubbed James the wrong way. It was strange, but he always had his guard up.

"I'm just glad they're all okay," Jack carefully replied.

"Me too," James said. "This whole thing has just been pure insanity."

"You ain't lying," Jack returned. "When I saw them walk in the station today, it stopped me dead in my tracks." It was the most honest thing he'd said all day, but the statement stopped James in his tracks. His wife's words played in his head on repeat.

 _I'm sorry I didn't answer earlier. I was helping one of the search parties and we found nothing at all. I tell you James, if Jack Petty hadn't been there—_

 _If Jack Petty hadn't been there—_

 _If. Jack. Petty. Hadn't. Been. There._ Nausea crept up in James' throat. _Why would she lie? What would Sarah have to gain by lying? She promised-I promised-we promised._ Memories threatened to swallow him as his head spun. _We walked away from this._ Even as his heart pounded against his sternum, he regained his composure. _Old habits die hard._

"You were there?" James said with a calm, polite smile. "I'm glad for that."

"You didn't know?" Jack returned, his curiosity piqued. "Sarah didn't call you?"

"I was with Victor when they were found," James stated, skirting the answer. "We came straight over afterward."

"I'm sure she's too overcome with joy to even call," Jack said. James nodded.

"I'm sure," James replied. "You going in?" He nodded towards the hospital doors.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I'm just gonna check on the girls and make sure they're truly alright."

"I'll leave you to it," James replied. "I just got a call. One of my patients is being admitted back in Silver Spring." With that bold faced lie, he pivoted on his heel and walked away. He couldn't stay now; he needed time to think. James' head was spinning with his wife's dishonesty. He didn't know what it meant, but James knew he had to figure it out—fast. Whatever Sarah was up to, there was no doubt that it was connected to the ghost of her father. Not even death could stand in the way of an Irish King's revenge.


	40. Chapter 40

James Sinclair could barely focus on the road in front of him. His mind was racing as fast as his heart as memories played over and over again. Ireland was fresh on his soul as he stared at the curvy road ahead.

It had been a long time since walked Belfast's streets. Even as a small kid, the siren call of the Emerald Isle played on his spirit. A second generation American, the grandson of Irish immigrants, he always wanted to return to the place that his grandma spoke of. There was love in her Gaelic lilt every single time she spoke of Belfast, so when the opportunity arose for him to complete his residency in Ireland, the brand new doctor jumped at the chance.

Staying at a tiny flat just outside of Belfast City Hospital, James used every opportunity he had to travel and tour the city. It was on one of those trips that he spied a dark and amazing pub in the center of town. Painted completely black, he almost missed it. The small black and white sign caught his eye. _Skull and Crossbones_. James smiled and wondered how good the whisky was. As walked in through its heavy red door, he was ready to find out.

As the memory of that first night consumed him, he was surprised that the ache was still as fresh as it had been all those years ago, but-he realized with a sad smile—the ache never went away. It was fresh on his soul because, like it or not, Fiona was always in his heart. It felt like she always had been, but he knew it hadn't always been so. There was a time where he thought Sarah had been his one true love. Youth, it seemed, always had a way of fucking one up.

 _The interior of the pub was an endless scene of dim lights and dark mahogany, and if there was a window to be found, James didn't see it. Grabbing one of the many barstools, he sat and waited for the bartender to serve him._

" _Whaddya want ta order?" To his surprise, the bartender was a tiny sprite of a thing, with dark eyes and dark hair. Her caramel skin was luminous, even in the dark light. He was immediately smitten._

" _You," he answered with a disarming grin. He was unable to help himself. All five feet of her was dressed in black, but her tight curves were more than obvious, and her skin tight black t-shirt revealed generous breasts for such a tiny frame. He thought she'd tell him to bugger off, but to his amazement, she blushed prettily and smiled._

" _I meant the liquor," she explained, as if he didn't know what she meant. He laughed low and smiled again._

" _Redbreast 12 to start, milady," he replied. With another sweet smile, she did his bidding. Coming back with two heaping glasses of the expensive whisky, she slid one in his direction, and she took one for herself. With a wink and a smile, she knocked the back with no effort at all._

" _You Irish don't play around," he said appreciatively. "I prefer to savor it."_

" _Save the savorin' for Jameson 18 or Glenlivit, " she said with an amazing grin and a gorgeous Irish lilt. "I'm Sarah Brogan." She held out a hand. With a rakish stare, James took it and kissed it soundly._

" _James," he replied. "James Sinclair. Like Bond, but better in bed." Immediately, he could feel the blush stain his cheeks. He sighed apologetically and looked down at his feet. The words felt fake and forced. "I don't know what made me say that. I mean, you're fucking beautiful—don't get me wrong—but I'm not that guy."_

" _What guy?" Sarah questioned. "Ye look pretty damned adorable to me, Mr. Bond." And with that, she walked away, focusing on her other customers. She'd come back and check in with him, get him another drink. By the end of the night, he'd graduated to the Glenlivit, but when his bar tab racked in over a hundred and fifty Euros, he tried to play off the shock. Noticing the slight panic, Sarah grabbed the tab and took it to the register. Pulling a stack of money from her pocket, plucked the necessary Euros off, and paid the tab._

" _Ye looked gobsmacked," she drawled as she came back to the counter._

" _Gobsmacked?"_

" _Shocked, taken off-guard," Sarah explained._

" _Yeah, I kinda am," he said slowly. "I mean, I can pay for my own—"_

" _I know," she interrupted. "But I didna mind." She leaned close to him, so close she could smell the whisky on his breath, almost close enough to touch his lips with hers. "When I see something I want, I take it. It's one of the perks of being the boss' daughter."_

James breathed a sigh of relief once he reached his driveway. Getting out of the car, he locked it behind him. The minute he walked in the door, he headed to the bar and found the Glenlivit. He poured a glass and sipped it, reveling in its smokiness. As he sat down in the massive recliner, he let the bitterness cover his tongue. Tonight, God willing, would be night where he'd drink the bottle.

" _You're so beautiful," he breathed. They'd been dating seven months now. After the first three, he was introduced to her mother. Eileen Brogan was pretty with a rough mouth, but James absolutely adored her and she him. Eileen was impressed with the MD behind James' last name. She was pleased her daughter had landed such a catch. Eileen knew things were serious, and she was happy about it._

" _And yer quite handsome," she replied. Dressed in a pretty pink lace dress, her dark hair pulled back, she looked more innocent than she actually was. The bed they shared knew better. So did the kitchen table. And the living room floor._

" _Thank you, milady," he said with a smile. "You ready?"_

" _Aye," she replied. "Let's go meet my Da." Within seconds, they were in a car on their way to the flat where Declan stayed. It was a separate hideaway, apart from the family home he shared with Eileen and Sarah. This flat was mainly used for business._

 _Eileen had arranged it. In the months that had passed, Sarah had told her beau all he needed to know about Declan Brogan. To be fair, she knew precious little about her father's dangerous lifestyle. She knew enough to keep the secrets secret, nothing more. Eileen had done a wonderful job at keeping their daughter in dark as much as possible. James, however, had quickly learned about the head of the Irish Kings._

 _Declan Brogan's name was all over Belfast City Hospital. Between his ties with the IRA and SAMBEL, the old man was a force to be reckoned with. He hand dirty fingers in every pot, from the pubs to the politicians, and if he wanted someone gone, they were at the bottom of the River Lagan before there was a chance to breathe a complaint. To say James was fearful was an understatement, but he couldn't let it show._

 _Sarah and James stopped at the flat, and she stepped out first. She was completely at ease as she climbed the steps to the apartment. A huge ginger haired bouncer type stood outside the door. Sarah barely registered his presence as she opened the door._

 _Declan sat in the middle of the room. Seated behind a massive cherry desk, he looked every single bit as scary as James thought. His heart leapt to his chest, but he appeared calm._

"God, I can't—" James said aloud. He finished the whisky and stood. He'd been so scared of Declan, and for all intents and purposes, he should have been. "If I'd known then what I know now…"

His eyes drifted to the photo on the fireplace. It was black and white and absolutely beautiful. Walking slowly over to the mantel, he picked up the picture and traced it with his fingers. Theirs was a whirlwind love, a whirlwind marriage. A whirlwind everything. It was fast. Too fast. He knew that now.

"Our wedding day…"

 _Declan liked what he saw. James and Sarah were married just a little over a year after they met. The wedding cemented a win / win situation: James got Sarah, and Declan got a doctor for his extracurricular activities. Blinded by adoration, James ignored his conscience. And it went well for a while._

James' eyes danced over to the next photograph. It was another black and white of Sarah and Victor. Victor wasn't even a year old yet. He knew the picture well. It was spring in the Irish countryside, and she was absolutely beautiful. Back then, he couldn't imagine a love like that—ever again.

"God, how naïve I was."

 _Victor was born less than a year after they got married. Sarah was an incredible mother, but James never once doubted that she would be. After only having Sarah, a grandson was something to be praised, to be doted upon. Declan was never the doting type, but James could see the old man was proud to have the boy in his life. Things seemed to be falling into place, despite the constant shadow of the Irish Kings being there. James was content with his role in the business: he was the ready and able doctor. He stitched open wounds and removed open bullets, nothing more._

Another glass gone, James moved away from the fireplace. He began to slowly pace the room.

"When did it all change?" he asked. The question drifted into the silence, unanswered, but James knew. He knew exactly the moment and the man that changed everything.

 _Kellan Ashby._ Declan's consigliere, his advisor, his right hand man. Dedicated Catholic priest. As long as he still drew breath, James would always remember his name and the night his entire world began falling apart.


	41. Chapter 41

When James' glass was empty, he didn't bother refilling it. Instead, he grabbed the bottle of Glenlivit and sipped straight from the bottle. It made the memories fresher, clearer, and the past was exactly where he wanted to be. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the phone ringing over and over again.

 _The sound forced his eyes open. He sat upright in bed and looked around for a moment as he tried to get his bearings. Sarah was sound asleep beside him, and he reached over to grab the offending phone. He clicked it on without even looking at exactly who was calling._

" _Hello?"_

" _James." The low rumble of Declan's voice echoed in his ears, and his brain instantly snapped awake. Declan's voice had a way of doing that to people. "I need you to come to St. Anne's. Immediately."_

 _James glanced at Sarah's sleeping form. For a moment, it ran through his mind to say no, but he squashed the sensation and eased out of bed._

" _I'll be there in less than fifteen, Declan," he replied, clicking the phone off. Throwing on jeans and a sweatshirt, he sank into a pair of sneakers before grabbing his keys. Sarah woke up then—just barely. Running a hand through her hair, she blinked rapidly._

" _Where you goin?" she asked sleepily. Half-dressed and completely disheveled, James wanted to climb back in and tumble her, but that was something that happened only rarely these days. Between his grueling shifts at the hospital and Sarah's total maternal infatuation with Victor, they didn't have the same fire as before. He still loved her. In fact, he wanted to run away from Belfast—maybe go back to America—maybe have another baby. Victor was almost four. He wanted his own family unit, away from the insanity that was the Irish Kings._

" _Your Da needs me, love," he whispered. Rounding the bed, he kissed her forehead. "I'm heading to St. Anne's. I'll be home as soon as I can."_

" _Be careful," she mumbled in return. "Dinna forget yer gun." She was on sleepy autopilot as she opened the drawer and grabbed a Glock. James hated it, but Declan insisted he learn to use it._

"Ye never know when ye'll need ta proctect yerself." James' voice held a little of the Irish brogue as the words filled the silence. After years there, he could copy the sound of the accent to perfection. His grandparents would have been proud of the accuracy. They would have hated the man he'd become.

 _St. Anne's was a massive brick building with stunning stained glass and long, red trimmed oaken pews. James had been there a handful of times, but there was something about that particular church that made his gut boil in anxiety. He walked to the front of the church, dipping his fingers in the cask of holy water. Making the sign of the cross, he stood slowly, his eyes on the golden cross resting just behind the pulpit._

" _Dr. Sinclair," a thick Irish brogue broke the silence, causing James to jump slightly. He turned and faced a ruddy faced, balding priest. He sported a silvery, well-barbered beard, but it was his emerald green eyes that cut through him. He walked towards James with purpose, extending his hand. "I'm Kellan Ashby."_

 _James cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. Silently, he took the cleric's hand and soundly shook it._

" _Come," Ashby said quietly as he walked up the center of the church. He headed out the door, and James followed. A long, black car waited outside. After he ducked in the back seat, James hesitated, but he ducked in behind him. As the door slammed, James knew this moment was different from the rest._

" _Thank ye fer coming so quickly, Dr. Sinclair," Kellan said low, and even though he and James sat just inches apart. "I really appreciate it. Declan said yer a great physician, and I need that now."_

" _You're welcome," James replied, completely unsure of what the hell he'd gotten himself into._

The bottle was now halfway gone. James' head swam, and he wasn't anywhere as drunk as he wanted to be, but he set the bottle down. As night descended on Silver Spring, James Sinclair lay back on the sofa, suspended in that cold night twenty-three years ago.

 _The house was small and confined. It was on the edge of Belfast, a place that James wasn't quite as familiar with. Father Ashby left the car and walked with purpose towards the entryway. Again, James followed. Kellan opened the door, and as James walked in, complete and utter shock flooded every single vein in his body._

 _Babies. At least ten babies, all under one, greeted him. Nurses quietly tended them as Father Ashby walked past. None of the women spoke, but James followed, zombie-like through the maze of cradles. A tall, narrow flight of stairs greeted them as they left that front entryway. Kellan climbed them without hesitation._

" _Where did they all come from?" James asked as they climbed the steps. Kellan didn't answer. Instead, he reached the top of the steps and turned right. Walking down an endless hallway, James could see multiple rooms full of babies. They finally came to a closed door at the end of the hallway. Kellan turned the knob and walked in. Nausea churned in his gut. A baby mill. A fucking baby mill._

 _This room, thankfully, had only baby in it. Two women sat with the boy, who couldn't have been more than a year and a half old. The boy was wrapped in the arms of a pretty blonde, who rocked him gently. The other woman, a dark, caramel skinned brunette, stood by her side, looking longingly at the child._

" _Maureen, Fiona," Kellan said kindly, "This is Dr. James Sinclair. He's come to take a look at the wee one."_

 _The blonde stood and walked towards the cradle in the corner. Carefully, she lay the baby down, but she didn't move from his side. She gazed lovingly down at the child and began to speak._

" _Dr. Sinclair," she said softly. "This little one came to us tonight all the way from America. Can ye check him, make sure he's alright?"_

" _For what?" James countered. "So you can sell him?"_

" _James, mind yer place," Father Ashby said with a tinge of menace. "Ye dinna want it to get back to Declan that ye were fresh to ma sister."_

" _Sister?" James looked at the blonde woman. When her green eyes met his, he knew it was true. They were identical to the cleric's._

" _Aye," the blonde said sagely, "Maureen Ashby. I'm Kellan's sister, but ye dinna wanna know what ma husband does, lovey." James gritted his teeth. Maureen was right. The less he knew about her, the better._

" _Just check the baby out," the brunette said low. "It's not like they go ta bad homes. They go to good Catholic parents that just haven't been blessed with babies."_

" _Yeah, as long as they pay the right price," James quipped._

" _It gets split with the church," she returned._

" _Of course it does," James spat. "It always does."_

" _Ye and yer pretty wife profit from it too," the caramel goddess laughed darkly. "Declan has been in the baby sellin business fer ages."_

" _And who the hell are you?" James spewed, careful to keep him voice down._

" _Fiona Larkin," the beauty stated proudly with a flash of white teeth. James' heart seized, in spite of himself. She was stunning. Absolutely stunning. He gritted his teeth, unsure of the man he was becoming. He was disgusted with the thought of the babies being bought and sold like chattel, like livestock, but at the same time, the dangerous glint in this woman's eyes riled something dormant within his soul, something Sarah had neglected for far too long._

" _Look at the lad, Sinclair," Kellan Ashby commanded. "And ye are free to go."_

 _With a malevolent gaze in the priest's direction, James walked over to the bassinet. The baby, clad in an onesie and a diaper, had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. His hair was platinum, and his cheeks were a beautiful shade of pale pink. He was a beautiful boy. He was incredibly alert._

Those eyes pierced into James' heart, even now, even as he grabbed the bottle of whisky and cracked it open again. Sipping it, he thought of the bassinet, of the blue eyes, of everything. He was healthy and strong and just wonderful, and every time James thought of him, his breath caught. He always wondered where the child went. He always wondered if a good Irish Catholic family got him. He wondered what happened. No matter where he went, that face still haunted him.

" _Ye aren't a stupid man," Kellan Ashby warned. "But I saw the way ye reacted when you came here."_

 _They stood outside the makeshift baby mall, waiting for the car to come. After giving the small boy a clean bill of health, Ashby escorted him out. James couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, even though he knew there was no reason for him to be watched._

" _I'm not going to report anything, Father," James said calmly. "I'm not one to slit my own throat. But I will say this: you're not the man I'd want to dinner around my boy."_

" _Trust that ye'll never see me there," Kellan responded. "Taking Declan Brogan's grandson would surely result in a certain death."_

" _He isna gone yet?" Fiona's voice rang in the frigid night. She'd opened the door and traipsed down the concrete steps. "I thought he woulda went screamin for the hills by now."_

" _Why?" James asked. "Because I don't believe humanity should be for sale?"_

" _Oh, were I as young as ye," Fiona smiled. "If I had the luxury of being Brogan's son-in-law, I guess I could afford to think that he's a good man. I'm sure this side of it has shocked yer delicate American sensibilities."_

" _You're quite jaded," James stated. It was as if Ashby had all but disappeared as the argument began. "I guess being a criminal makes you that way."_

 _Fiona's hard laughter rang in the winter air. Kellan breathed a sigh of relief as the car rounded the corner._

" _Ye'll have plenty of time to discuss it as the driver drops ye back at St. Anne's," Ashby said. "James, George will drop ye at yer house. Fiona, George will take ye to Jimmy O."_

" _What?" James said. "I have to ride with this she-devil?"_

" _Ye scared, little boy?" Fiona cruelly challenged. There was nothing playful about it._

And now, through the half-gone bottle of expensive Irish whisky, James realized that those cruel words were exactly what made him want Fiona so goddamned much.


	42. Chapter 42

"Do you think he's going to wake up, Jax?" Tara's voice was a mixture of fear, sleep deprivation, and genuine wonder. They stood at their son's bedside, waiting for Hannah to be wheeled up. Dr. Parker had dialed back the drugs that had kept Abel sleeping. So far, he remained deeply embedded in his coma, leaving Tara to think the worst. She knew, better than anyone, the longer Abel slept, the worse it would be.

"I don't know," Jax said, hands deep in his pockets. Tara looked at her husband, amazed at how much the summer had aged him. The blonde hair had highlights of beautiful white, and the crinkles around his gorgeous blue eyes stayed, even when he wasn't smiling. "I guess all we can do is hope."

"I think we're running out of that," Tara mumbled as tears caught in her throat. Jax, unsure of what to do, wrapped a cautious arm around his wife. His eyes roamed his son's sleeping form. One would ever know the struggles Abel Teller had endured. He looked healthy. His cheeks were rosy, and he breathed evenly. He'd lost some weight in his prolonged sleep, but he still looked good. He didn't look like he had a heart condition, and he definitely didn't look like the son of an addict

It was hard to believe that Wendy's heroin addiction forced him into the world early; still, the heart defect inherited from Gemma's side of the family had done him no favors. Still, he fought. He grew. Hell, with Tara as his mother, he thrived. Abel had so quickly become a man, and Jax couldn't believe how much he'd survived.

 _You're so much like me,_ Jax thought with a mix of pride and sadness. Abel hadn't had more than a cold since they'd arrived in Silver Spring, but the minute Hannah disappeared, he was lost. His body shut down, and Abel was reduced to nothing. Jax's eyes flicked back to Tara. The older Teller had learned long ago that Tara was the air in his lungs and the beat of his own twisted heart. Without her, he wouldn't fare much better than his son.

"Please don't say that, babe," Jax rumbled. "He has every reason to live. Hannah and the baby are back, and they're healthy. Ophelia is gaining strength every day. The majority of our Charming family is still here, and we are-"

"So close to everything falling into place," Tara finished with a whisper. "But Jax, we felt the same way when we got to Silver Spring all those years ago, and look at all that's happened. Hell, we _still_ don't know what exactly happened with Hannah and Opie—I mean, there's no trace of Lucius-and the girls haven't even left the hospital since they waltzed into the Silver Spring PD. Every single day, we lose leads. Every single day, whomever wanted to fuck us is _still_ able to fuck us."

"That's why we have Tig and Althea," Jax argued. "Althea is brains, and Tig is the muscle. Thomas has, to everyone's shock, been a huge help with that, as has Will. We're safe for now."

"For now," Tara bit back. "We're back to _for now_. How long does Johnny have to grieve for Tig without his mother present? Let's not forget that Tig is over sixty and has Happy running SAMCRO in his absence, and as for Thomas and Will, I sure as hell don't want them to have to _protect_ us. We were supposed to have found the source of the problem and eliminated-"

A quick knock on the door stopped Tara mid-sentence, and before she could finish, the door opened and Hannah entered. Sitting within the confines of a wheelchair, she looked healthy and radiant. She was recovering well, and her OB was confident she'd be released within another day or so. _There's no point in even letting her go,_ Tara thought. _She won't leave here without Abel._

Hannah's gray eyes lit up the minute she entered the room. One hand rested on her now visibly protruding belly, and the other held what appeared to be another stream of ultrasound photos.

"Here you are, Miss Hannah," a robust voice filled the small space. Tara smiled. _Iris._ The statuesque ebony beauty wheeled Abel's wife into the room. Hannah looked up at Iris and grinned. Iris clicked the wheelchair brakes into place and moved the legs to the side, allowing Hannah to stand. Tara's eyes lingered on the bump that protruded outward. Hannah's cradled her baby protectively, and wistfulness swept over Tara. She just couldn't wait to meet that baby.

"Thank you, Iris," Hannah said sweetly.

"You're welcome," Iris replied. She nodded in Tara's direction with a broad smile. "Miz Tara."

Tara nodded back, beaming for a brief moment. Jax caught the look between the women and couldn't help but smile. For a second, Tara looked like she used to: carefree, happy. That was the Tara of spring's end. Jax questioned whether or not he'd see that side of Tara again before autumn came. He wondered if he'd see that side of himself as well.

"Thank you, Iris," Tara said quietly, and the ultrasound tech left the room with a cordial wave. Hannah approached them, and Jax pushed a chair in her direction. Hannah sat and offered a strand of ultrasound photos to Tara. Tara unraveled the strand, eyes nostalgic as she did so.

"Another good report," Hannah stated. "They're looking at releasing me tomorrow."

"That's awesome," Jax replied. "We can get you settled at the cabin. Maybe then Jack—"

"I'm not going to any cabin," Hannah interrupted softly, but her tone was firm. "I'll be here, at Abel's side, until he wakes up."

"I think that's a bad idea," Jax stated. "I think you should leave Abel to us and get some rest. You have to think about the danger. Lucius is still out there, as are the bastards that are employing him. You're in a fucked up place, honey. We didn't keep you safe enough before. We have to now. I'm not taking another chance. You need to rest. You have to think of the baby."

"I've been resting for months now," Hannah shot back. "You're not going to stop me from staying here, Jax. I love you and the family so much, and I am grateful for your protection, but Abel is my husband. We've been married for less than a few months, and he's—he's here. In a hospital bed. Y'all have cared for him since I've been-" She trailed off, choking up. Tears fell down her cheeks.

"That wasn't your fault, baby," Tara said as she kneeled by Hannah. "Jax is just trying to keep you safe, that's all."

"I know," Hannah's voice shook as she spoke. Her silvery eyes met Tara's with heartbroken defiance. "But that doesn't change anything. I'm staying. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're going to the cabin, Hannah," Jax stated firmly. He wasn't yelling.

"No, I'm not," Hannah retorted. Where Jax was quiet, Hannah's voice raised.

"Yes, you are," Jax's lips tightened into a thin line. "We can't afford to keep you here right now, not with Lucius lurking about."

"What do you mean, you can't afford to keep me here?" Hannah questioned. "If anything, keeping me here allows you to not spread security so thin."

"She has a point," Tara stated. Her hazel eyes gazed up at him questioningly. Jax inhaled deeply through his nose and bit his lip. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but they were right.

"I'm not going to walk away from him, Jax," Hannah said. "Just like you wouldn't walk away from Tara." She locked eyes with her father-in-law. "Just like he wouldn't leave me."

"Who am I leaving?" a voice quaked sleepily. Hannah and Jax turned their eyes to Abel's bed. His eyes were open. Tara then turned and saw her son's eyes, while not wide and super alert, they were clearest, most beautiful blue she'd ever seen.

"Abel?" Jax's voice cracked. Without even thinking, he went to Abel's bed and bent down, weeping openly. Tara stood, her legs shaking, as did Hannah. The women watched while Jax held his son, moved by the moment. Despite each one's yearning to do the same, they allowed Jax his chance to love Abel.

"Dad," Abel croaked. "What's wrong? What's going on? Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital love," Tara whispered from behind Jax. "You had a heart attack. You had another surgery, and Dr. Parker put you in a coma to protect you."

"Mama?" Abel sounded childlike again for a moment. Jax moved away and allowed Tara to be seen. She moved towards him, her face soaked with tears. "How long have I been out?"

"A few weeks," Tara answered honestly. "It's been the longest few weeks of our lives. They've been backing off your meds to bring you out."

"I guess it worked," Abel said with a sleepy smile. "I'm up." The smile then immediately faded. Tara watched as memories began to flood him. He glanced around the room, but all he could only see his parents. "Hannah? Oh God, Mama, is she still-?"

"I'm right here, baby," Hannah spoke up. It was now Tara's turn to move and let Hannah through. Like Jax before her, she walked towards the bed. Tara saw Abel's eyes widen as he took in her changed form. She bent and laid her head on his chest, sobbing. Now on autopilot, she crawled into his tiny bed and wrapped herself around him. Instinctively, one hand went to her hair, the other went to her belly. He was shocked to see how much she'd grown.

"I must've been out for a while," Abel said with a careful, gentle smile. Everyone laughed softly at his joke.

"You were," Hannah said with a smile. "But you woke up just in time. Your daughter will be very happy that her Papa is awake."

"Daughter?" Jax crackled. Again, tears filled his eyes. He glanced over at Tara, who stood, dry-eyed, smiling ear-to-ear. "You knew?" He whispered happily in her direction.

"I didn't, until about five minutes ago," she said honestly. "It's clear as day on the ultrasound. I averted my eyes before, but I couldn't look away now."

"Were you going to tell me?" Jax turned and looked at his beautiful wife.

"I guess we'll never know, will we?" Tara smiled broadly.

"There it is," Jax said quietly with a grin that mirrored his wife's. He grasped her waist and pulled her close.

"There's what?" Tara asked.

"The smile I've been waiting for all summer," he replied, rocking as he held her. "I thought I wouldn't ever see it again." Before she could question it, Jax forgot where he was. Overcome with emotion, he kissed Tara gently.

"Get a room, you two!" Abel quipped from his bed. They broke apart, blushing. As Tara turned her eyes to the boy she'd saved and raised, her heart felt full for the first time in ages. Everything was coming together. Abel still looked somewhat tired and weak, but he was awake and alive. Hannah was at his side, and Tara knew her granddaughter was kicking around too. Tara was almost content, but if the past had taught her anything, it was to not expect miracles. She always erred on the side of caution. It kept her on her toes.

Still, standing in Jax's embrace, staring at Hannah and Abel, it was impossible for Tara to _not_ allow herself some happiness. As she looked on, she knew that, no matter what hell it brought at times, she was unbelievably blessed to have these people in her life. Maybe miracles could happen, after all.


	43. Chapter 43

Sarah's heart slammed against her chest. She didn't bother stopping at the hospital to see Hannah—the place was crawling with Tellers and SAMCRO. She didn't exactly know how to feel about her daughter's resurfacing. It certainly wasn't part of the plan. As she sped down the road, she knew Jack Petty had laid Lucius' body to rest in a shallow grave at the edge of her father's property. A strange shiver shot down her spine as she thought of his body lying in the red Carolina clay. It was a pity that such a sweet kid had to be disposed of in such an ugly way, but Sarah Sinclair had come too far to let a mere orphan boy stop her.

As she drew closer to the home she shared with James, her mind was a movie reel that played over and over again. There were moments of pure happiness—her wedding day and Victor's birth-and there were moments of sheer hell. Flickers of Fiona's face spun in her memory, as did the look on James' face when he learned of his lover's fate. Tears swelled in Sarah's eyes as she drove, and she reached to push them away. Her mouth crushed inward as she hated herself for allowing the inconvenient emotion. Taking a deep breath, she pulled into the long, paved driveway.

 _He's home._ His SUV was parked in by the house. Sarah shuddered. There had been many, many nights where she still waited up for him, despite everything that had happened. Her gut clutched, and she knew that he wouldn't be doing the same. Since leaving Ireland, there had been barely any physical interaction, much less any social interaction. The only intimacy they shared now was, oddly enough, in public. It was all part of the plan-divorce, no matter how much sense it made, was just not an option.

 _He needs to die, Sarah._ Sarah closed her eyes as she clicked the car off. Her father's words rang in her ears. _The betrayal is one that deserves a bullet to tha brain._

 _It all started after James returned home from St. Anne's. Sarah would never forget the look in her husband's eyes as he walked in the door. She was cutting up bananas for Victor when the door opened. She turned and smiled in welcome, but that smile died the minute she saw his face. His jaw was set, his eyes were narrowed, and he walked past her like she didn't exist. Seeing his face, she quickly placed Victor's breakfast on a plate and followed James down the hallway. As he entered the bedroom, he turned to shut the door, but when she came into view, he paused._

" _Don't. Fucking. Speak. To. Me." Each word was a staccato stab to her heart. "Not now."_

 _Sarah stopped walking. She stood there, completely lost. James didn't slam the door; he didn't have to. Sarah wasn't going to fight him. She had no idea what happened, but after growing up at Declan's feet, she knew it wasn't her place to pry. She knew he'd been working for her father, but it didn't matter. James' face spoke volumes, and she left well enough alone. Quietly, she turned her back on the closed door, took a deep breath, and walked back to her son._

There was no doubt in her mind that her little boy was with Delylah Teller, snaked beside her, throwing the career he worked so hard for away. She knew that Hannah was forever linked to Abel Teller, even more so now, since she was pregnant with his baby. Sarah gritted her teeth in frustration. _It wasn't supposed to be like this._ Carefully, she swung the car door open and stepped out. The memories took over again.

" _You knew what my father was when we got married, James." Sarah's voice had taken on a tone he'd never heard before. She was cold, frozen. Her eyes were dry as she looked at him, and he didn't know what bothered him more: the matter of fact attitude or the fact that he missed it in the first place._

" _So no one is immune to your father's depravity?" he'd countered. His dark eyes flashed as he neared her. "Is our son next?"_

 _He was now mere inches from her face, and Sarah didn't flinch. It was shocking, at best. He'd come back completely devastated, and instead of calming him down, instead of talking about it, Sarah could only defend it. Above and beyond the love she had for James was the deeply ingrained values of loyalty and fucked up honor for Declan. It was justified by saying the kids were placed in good, Catholic homes. The words made James' blood boil._

" _He'll grow up no differently than I did," Sarah said through gritted teeth. "Our son is already in a good, Catholic home. Those babies werna loved or wanted, James. They were discarded—like goddamned garbage."_

" _That's what I'm afraid of," he said low. He was dangerously close to his breaking point. "I believe just as many babies were stolen as were given away."_

" _And what if they were?" Sarah said with a sick smile. "They werna taken from Catholics. I canna even think the life that would fall on them had my Da not saved them."_

" _You really believe this bullshit, don't you?" he asked slowly. She didn't respond. Instead, she walked away from him, went into their tiny bedroom and shut the door._

" _Aye, I do," she answered, unashamed. She didn't look away from his gaze. Instead, she met it with fierce determination. "Ye knew what ye were getting into." James rolled his eyes. "Ye did! Ye absolutely did!"_

" _We were barely together a year when we got married," he retaliated._

" _That's just as much yer fault as it is mine," she bit back brutally. For a moment, they were both silent. They stared at one another, man and wife, and they realized that neither one knew a goddamned thing about the other._

" _Lust is a powerful drug," Sarah whispered, amazed. A few years had gone by since their wedding day, and Sarah never realized that there just wasn't love there. Not the true, binding kind of love that a marriage needed to survive. There had been great sex, good talks, some awesome, amazing moments, but there was no undying devotion. As she glared at James, she silently wondered if it was even a possibility-to love someone like that._

" _What did you say?" James asked._

" _Lust is a powerful drug," she repeated. "It blinds us, completely and totally, tricks us into thinkin that love can be equated to making somebody come."_

" _Fuck you," he responded._

" _Go fuck yourself," she spit. "I'm sure ye'll enjoy yer hands more than I will."_

Sarah could still hear the slam of the front door. It jolted her and shook her to her core, and as she purposefully strode through the entrance of their home, she knew that was when she lost him. James flew into Fiona's arms after that. She didn't realize what was happening at first; she just thought he was angry. She truly believed that, one day, he'd settle down and make sense of it all. Part of her longed for him to return to her, and part of her didn't give a damn. She refused to back down.

Her hand now grasped the golden knob that opened her front door. She wasn't surprised to see every single light on, nor was she surprised to see the bar open and covered in glasses and bottles. With a shake of her head, she walked forward and climbed the stairs. She knew exactly where James was. As her heels sank into the carpet of each step, the past came back to haunt her.

" _What do ye mean, she's pregnant?" The words were a mere whisper. Sarah stood in their flat, dumbstruck, staring at her father. Declan had learned about the affair from one of his many soldiers in Belfast, and that night, while James was at the hospital, the old Irish King had paid his daughter a visit. She'd just laid Victor down for the night._

" _Dinna worry about the whore," Declan coldly replied. "Or the bastard she carries. That whole family will be wiped out, all in good time."_

" _I thought her husband was dead." Sarah's voice was still very soft. It was almost as if she was talking to herself._

" _She has a little girl—well, Kerrianne's not all that little anymore. She'll be seventeen soon."_

" _O'Phelan's get?" she queried as she walked towards the window. It was snowing outside. Stunning crystalline flakes fell silently onto the blacktop. It was so peaceful. Meanwhile, within her chest, war was breaking out. She couldn't cry-the back of Declan's hand taught her how to bite the tears back-but as her father spoke, her heart felt as if it was collapsing on itself._

" _Nay, Filip Telford's," Declan said offhandedly. Sarah didn't know the name well, but she knew she'd heard it at least once or twice. She chewed her lower lip as she searched her memory. SAMCRO. It hit her like a brick in the face. The little blonde boy. The one James said he'd examined. The one from America. Maureen and Kellan Ashby. Fiona. They were all involved with him. And strangely enough, Telford was part of the American tribe. Sarah's eyebrows knitted in confusion._

" _Yer gonna kill Kerrianne?" she asked as she turned to face him. He was a small man, barely five-foot-seven, with white hair and dark, probing eyes. Even with his smaller stature, he was the most terrifying man she'd ever known. She didn't doubt for one second that he'd kill the teenaged girl._

" _Not if her mama cooperates," Declan replied. Sarah wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she wasn't going to ask about it, either._

" _So what do I do, Da?" Sarah sighed. "This is so goddamned shameful."_

 _The irony of that statement wasn't lost on her, even as the words flew out of her mouth. She was the daughter of the hardest, roughest gangster in the Irish mob. She knew Declan had more blood on his hands than she could even imagine, but there was still a code they all knew to abide by. It was fucked up code of honor, but it was ingrained into her soul._

" _Ye dinna hae to worry about it," Declan grumbled. "I'll be here when James gets home."_

Declan's voice echoed in her brain as she turned the doorknob. Cracking the heavy door open, she caught a glimpse of his unconscious form, draped haphazardly across the bed. Her breath caught. There was a small part of her that remembered the handsome, sweet man she knew he could be. That's why she still waited up some nights. She was tempting fate to bring love back to her, even though she knew it was impossible.

"Fiona…" she heard him whisper. Her blood ran cold.

"Figures. I should have known you would be drunk."

The words were jagged and brutal, and combined with a hard shove, they woke him and divested him of his memories.

"Sarah? Is that you?"

As his eyes flicked open, Sarah could see his face drop in disappointment.

"God, you've barely aged _,"_ he said as he blinked rapidly. He smiled, and for a split second, she let her guard down and smiled back. "Botox has helped more than even I realized."

As Sarah's smile faded, James drunkenly observed his wife. The dark hair was now a golden, honey blonde. When they moved back to the States, she wanted to give off the appearance of the American dream. Her Irish brogue was long gone, a part of the plan—the plan Declan created.

"I should know by now that all your dreams are of _her."_ Sarah's voice was low and almost guttural.

"Nice to see you too, dear," he drawled drunkenly. Sarah watched him try to get his bearings. He sat up and struggled to breathe for a moment. Sarah couldn't help but love his pain. _You deserve it, you bastard._

"You're shitfaced," she accused. She stood against the wall, arms crossed across her chest. Her still-slender frame was encased in fitted black jeans and a black button-down, she cut a lean line against the gold and cream wallpaper. In another time, James fancied his wife as beautiful. Over a quarter of a century with her taught him otherwise. As her eyes drank him in, he saw traces of the dangerous man that spawned her. They were calculated and cunning, and there was nothing loving in them at all.

"I am," he candidly stated. Sarah gritted her teeth in frustration. He didn't bother sugarcoating anything. There was no need to spin the words to her liking. He was obviously too drunk to care at this point.

"You're fucking amazing," she quietly raged. "Your daughter is in the hospital after months in captivity, and instead of being there, you're here, wasted. Da was right; I should've left you the minute I found out about Fiona."

James laughed bitterly as he sat up. "Ah, _Da_. Good ole-fashioned, baby stealing, priest killing, gun trafficking _Da_. A true pillar of the community."

"You didn't give a damn about that the first time we fucked, James," she replied candidly. "You didn't give a damn about it when you said _I do_."

"I didn't-" James began, but Sarah silenced him, interrupting him before he had a chance to speak.

"You _did,"_ she finished. "You knew my father. All of Belfast knew who Declan Brogan was. You knew what you were getting into; you just chose to keep your head in the goddamned sand."

"You're a liar," he mumbled drunkenly as he struggled to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What did you say?" Her almost black eyes glittered dangerously.

"You. Are. A. Liar!" he yelled as he made his way to his feet. "Today is no different than any other day! You lied when we got married; you lied when you were pregnant with Victor, when you were caught up with Ashby—our whole life was a fucking lie!"

"Poor James," Sarah said with a low rumble of laughter. "Poor, sad James. All these lies, all this sadness. You lied just as much as I did, baby. Don't fucking forget it."

Sadness masked his face. It was unmistakable. Sarah could feel the guilt ooze from him, but it didn't matter. Not now.

"You know I can't take it back, Sarah," he said quietly. "Fiona was-"

"She was your greatest mistake," Sarah stated. "That whole goddamned relationship, all secret and behind my back, behind my father's back—You're lucky you're not fucking dead."

"She may have been my greatest mistake," he whispered. "But I loved her. Just like I loved you, once. The only difference is that, aside from Hannah, she was the greatest love I'd ever known."

Sarah's cold, hard laughter echoed in the bedroom.

"Of course," she said jaggedly. "Hannah and Fiona are your greatest loves. Not me, who gave your first son. Not Victor, who always begged for your love, even when you took your pain out on him. It's the Irish bitch and her baby that have your heart."

"Sarah, I-" He held his hands out, as if he was trying to explain himself. She wanted none of it.

"No!" she bellowed. "When you cheated on me, I saved you!"

"I cheated because my wife, as I knew her, was dead to me," he murmured. "Your father was stealing and selling babies for profit."

"And you bedded the bitch that did the majority of the stealing!" Sarah yelled. "Where was your logic, James? You left me because Da's business, then you shack up and impregnate Fiona, who helped facilitate many of his deals?! That makes sense."

"She did what she did to survive," James retaliated. Sarah's eyes narrowed.

"So did I," Sarah stated. "It was never a question. What Da wanted, Da got. There was never a choice-not for me. Fiona could have left long ago, went to California with SAMCRO-"

"What?" James' voice was confused. "How was she affiliated with SAMCRO?"

Sarah stopped for a moment, mouth agape. _Here it is,_ she thought. _The moment where it all falls apart. The moment where the story comes together._ Her heart was in her throat, but she didn't care anymore. She was tired of running, tired of being a lie.

"She never told you?" Sarah asked with a sardonic grin. "I thought you two were soulmates."

James opened his mouth, but nothing came from it.

"What, baby?" Sarah teased. She was beginning to enjoy this. "Were you too busy fucking and pretending to be in love to know who you were banging?"

"Loving someone doesn't have to mean you know everything about them, Sarah. Obviously, I didn't know shit about you."

Sarah laughed, but the sound ended abruptly. She was more than a little surprised that James really never knew Fiona's connection with SAMCRO.

"Do you even know who Kerrianne's father is?" It was a simple question with a complicated answer.

"Jimmy O," he said with certainty.

"Jimmy O never had any children," Sarah fired back.

"Kerrianne is Jimmy's," James stated. "That's why Fiona couldn't leave."

"You know nothing," Sarah replied, her voice dripping with contempt. "I mean, you truly fell for the lies, didn't you?"

James stood in silence, unable to answer his wife.

"There was a time, many years ago, where Fiona only had eyes for Jimmy O. When he decided to work for non-Catholic gun distributers, Fiona felt like he'd turned his back on the cause. While Jimmy was in California working with Clay Morrow, Fiona quickly took up with Filip Telford."

"Who is that?" James questioned. "And what the hell does he have to do with SAMCRO?"

"You may have heard him called _Chibs_ ," she said softly. Her dark eyes were aflame with vengeance.

"The murdered Irishman from Hannah's wedding?" James couldn't breathe. Through his drunken haze, things began to come together, but the puzzle pieces just didn't fit yet.

"Yes," Sarah answered. "Chibs Telford was Kerrianne's father. After Fiona's death-"

"Murder," James corrected. "You killed her, remember?" Sarah glared at him, ignored the comment, and moved on.

"He sent her to Maureen and Trinity Ashby to live," Sarah stated. "She was already a year into university. No need to disrupt the child's life further."

"Yeah, because slitting her mother's throat was more than enough interruption," James seethed.

"No more of an interruption than fucking her mother," Sarah spat back.

"Fiona was a damned good mother," James slurred.

"Yeah, bedding a married man, getting knocked up, getting locked away and ending up dead is great parenting."

It was then that James stood, and before Sarah could register what was happening, he'd already slammed her to the ground. She viciously squirmed beneath him, kicking and trying to claw at him, but he was much bigger than she, and he was much stronger.

"Fuck you Sarah," he growled. "I wished a thousand times that it were me lying in that room, Glasgow grin across my face, my throat cut. Hannah was barely a couple hours old, for God's sake. Is your appetite for revenge so great that you still have to have redemption, all these years later?"

Sarah stopped moving. For a moment, they lay there, James atop her, staring at one another. Their relationship was sick and sad, a product of Declan's grand plan. Despite her hatred for Fiona and for him, when the time came to kill her husband, Sarah couldn't follow through.

" _I canna do it, Da," Sarah whispered. Her eyes were full of tears as she stared at James' bruised and broken face._

" _Ye can, and ye will," Declan quietly ordered. "There's no time fer tears, Sarah. Finish this. I'll take care of Victor and ye. Fiona's bastard will be taken care of." Declan's voice dripped with double entendre, and James didn't miss it._

" _You won't touch my little girl," James yelled. With a quick, almost imperceptible nod, Declan gave a silent order, and a huge, brawny man stepped from the shadows. A thick fisted hand crunched James' beautiful face, and a thick growl escaped her husband's throat, but no tears fell from his eyes, even as Sarah openly wept._

" _Da, dinna hurt him!" Sarah cried. "Please! He's Victor's father! I don't want you to hurt him! Please!"_

" _He's gonna die, Sarah," Declan growled, glancing in his son-in-law's direction. "He's dishonored this family by dallying with that whore Fiona and making her enceinte. He deserves death."_

" _Aye, Da," Sarah agree, steeling her backbone. "He's brought shame on me, and by extension, he's brought shame on ye too, but I canna let ye murder him."_

" _Let it go Sarah," James ordered. "I brought this on myself."_

 _Sarah flinched as she looked at her husband. Tied to a chair, he had already sustained a brutal beating. She should have wanted him murdered. She should've wanted him to be maimed, tortured, broken. But the fault didn't just lie with James. Fiona, she'd learned, had sought him out. Fiona tempted him. Fiona threw caution to the wind and didn't take birth control. It was just as much her fault as it was his._

 _And there was Victor. How would she explain James' death to him? What happened if he found out. She thought of her beautiful, dark eyed boy. She couldn't even begin to imagine his possible pain. No, it was better that he know as little as possible._

" _Shouldn't I choose, Da?" she whispered. "Couldn't ye leave me to decide the punishment?"_

 _Declan's eyes grew bright with pride, but that emotion was quickly extinguished._

" _Speak on, Sarah," he commanded. "What say ye?"_

"You never answered why," James said. "I mean, I always kind of knew-but why did you want Hannah? It makes no sense."

Sarah rounded the bed, and she faced him now. He was too drunk to notice both arms hidden behind her back.

"I spared you because of Victor," she stated. "I didn't kill Fiona immediately because it would've killed that baby, a baby that was innocent of her parents' disgusting past. Holding her captive through her pregnancy was a choice I'd make again. I got Hannah out of it, right? What better way to make Fiona think of all her wrongs? Solitary confinement will fuck a person up."

"Of course they would, especially when her days were numbered," James replied. "She knew she was dead the minute Hannah was born." Sarah smiled for a moment. "The confinement never made her crazy; she just knew she was marked for murder. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Kerrianne and Hannah behind, she-"

"She what, James?" Sarah asked. "She'd do it all over again?"

"I'd like to think so," James replied. Sarah's eyes welled with tears again, but she looked through them enough to drive a quick knee to her husband's groin. James wailed in pain and rolled away from her. In a split second, she stood and rushed to the bedside. Opening the side table drawer, she grabbed the Glock James kept at the ready. She always wondered if he kept it because of outside threats or because of her. Pointing it in his direction, she pulled the trigger, shooting him in the knee. An ungodly scream escaped his lips. She approached him quickly.

"Shut up, James," she said quietly. "Shut the fuck up." James bit back his cries.

"What the fuck is happening?" he breathlessly asked.

"The beginning of the end," Sarah stated. "I've been waiting twenty-plus years for this. Do you think that me sparing your life was a pure act of kindness? C'mon, James. You know me better than that."

"I-always-thought-" James was gasping as his wounds poured blood. "Your intention was to-make me suffer. You did an amazing job with that. If it-weren't for Hannah-I would've killed myself long ago."

Sarah saw the defiance that rested within his eyes. He didn't care that Fiona trafficked those babies back and forth. He didn't worry about Fiona _forgetting_ to tell him who Kerrianne's real father was. He was completely blinded by love for her, and even her death couldn't change that. If anything, having Hannah in his life made the love affair continue. Sarah swallowed her emotions. She couldn't afford sadness or pity now.

"I'm glad you didn't," Sarah said low. "I've planned this for a long, long time, my dear. You have only seen the beginnings of what I am doing."

"My gut told me your intentions weren't pure, Sarah," James replied. His breathing was slowing. It appeared that Sarah had hit his femoral artery, which bled like a sieve. He'd be dead soon, but not before he suffered. She sighed and lowered her gun.

"Oh, but you don't know how deep it goes," she stated. "Part one of the plan was to kill Chibs and weaken SAMCRO. Now, I am picking off the Tellers, one by one."

"That's why you pushed so hard for Silver Spring," James said, understanding. "It wasn't your father's mountain mansion. It wasn't the sentimentality. It was the Tellers. It was WitSec bringing them here. You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yes," Sarah's voice was a mere whisper. "I did. Before Da died, he'd caught up with them. Tara and Jax had betrayed the Kings by leaving SAMCRO behind. It all but demolished our gun business in America. He wanted their blood. The fact that I could go after Chibs and the Tellers was a bonus."

"A bonus," James croaked. "Really? Then why did it take so long?"

"A plan like this has so many moving parts," Sarah replied. "It takes time. I had to move us here, stake everyone out, put soldiers on the ground. Do you know how hard it was to get Hannah into the family, especially when she had no idea what was happening? The fact that she actually fell in love with Abel was blessed irony."

"So what happens now?"

"Like I said, it's already begun," Sarah answered. "Killing Trinity Ashby was easy. She fell off the deep end once she thought Jax was dead."

"Why did you want her dead?" James asked.

"Maureen was a dear friend to your lovely Fiona," Sarah stated matter-of-factly. "And she was Jax's half-sister. I knew that killing her would propel Chibs into action, which it did. He showed up here a couple of weeks before the wedding; I just didn't bet on him running security while we were there."

"You didn't kill them," James said. His leg was pulsing as the blood rushed from his wounds. "You were with me on the wedding night, and you haven't left the country in months."

"Lucius and Jack Petty," was Sarah's reply. "Lucius throttled Trinity. I called Jack to take care of the Scot."

" _Sheriff Jack Petty?"_ James was quickly fading, but the shock was still there. "And Lucius-?" James' eyes grew wide. "Does that mean that you're the one behind the girls' disappearances?"

"Aye," Sarah snarled.

"But why?" he questioned. It still didn't make complete sense.

"Because, James," she said calmly, raising her gun as she did so. "My end game is killing all parts of SAMCRO to avenge Da's memory. Killing your daughter and your grandbaby make it that much sweeter."

James' face was a mask of terror as Sarah's words sank in. _She's gonna kill Hannah. She's gonna kill them all._

"What about Victor? He's in love with Delylah Teller, after all."

"He'll understand." She raised her gun once more, and before he could say anything more, she pulled the trigger. The bullet now rested between his eyes. James Sinclair was dead. To her surprise, her eyes were dry. She thought she'd cry when she killed him, but those tears were gone long ago. Lowering the gun, she looked at him one last time. Blood seeped into the hardwood, and his eyes were wide and glossy as they gazed at the ceiling. There was no emotion as she reached in her pocket and grabbed her phone. She quickly dialed a familiar number and listened to the ringing.

"Jack Petty." The sheriff's voice was a dark warble.

"I need you, Jack," Sarah stated. "Come to the house."

There was no hesitation. "I'm on my way."

Sarah clicked the phone off. Without another word, she placed the gun on the bed and left the room, she walked downstairs to the open, messy bar James had left for her. Pouring a goblet of Glenlivit, she began casually sipping. It'd been a long, difficult day, and she reasoned a good stiff whiskey was a hard-earned reward.

"We're almost done, Da," she said aloud. "I just hope I can make you proud."


	44. Chapter 44

The buzz of Victor's phone pulled him out of a restless slumber. Once his eyes opened, he gently pulled himself away from Delylah's deep sleep clutch and grabbed the phone. Seeing his mother's number on the screen, he was intrigued more than surprised. He'd wondered when she was going to stop in. Hannah had been released from the hospital days ago, and he'd heard nothing. He was sure James had told her of their little cabin meeting, and that was what kept them both away. He expected silence from James, but not from her. The quiet had shocked him a little, made him uneasy.

"Hello?" he whispered. "Mom?" He'd stopped calling her _Mama_ long ago. It was after another relentless teardown from James, a battle Victor had lost. James was pissed about his grades again. He questioned Victor's future in medicine. He questioned Victor's future in everything, and Sarah stayed away. She hadn't protected him from the smacks and emotional blows. Instead, she let James hurt him over and over again. When James had left for the hospital that morning, Sarah kept in, as she always did, to fix him. It was then that he shook her away.

"Go, Mom," he'd whispered, just as he whispered the word _hello_ now _._ To Sarah's credit, she didn't fight it; she knew what she'd done. At thirteen years old, Victor didn't need her anymore. He was a man. He always wondered if Sarah was proud of him or ashamed. He didn't know if he'd ever know.

"Victor," she breathed. Her accent wasn't a typical Southern drawl, but it was still a sound that brought him comfort and fury-all at the same time. "I hope I didn't wake you."

 _Of course you woke me,_ he thought, but he didn't say it. When James was out of the picture, the relationship between mother and son was almost normal. It was only when his father stepped in that everything became complicated.

"Nah, I'm fine," he mumbled. Standing, he walked towards the door, opened it, and walked into the hallway. It was gray and dim. The sun hadn't quite made it to the horizon yet, but it was peeking through the mountains, ready to make its presence known. Victor headed down the steps and made a pathway out the door. The late summer dawn struck him as he stepped onto the porch. _Magnolias and pine._ It was a strange and beautiful smell. It was the smell that kept him alive while in the sands of Afghanistan and Iraq. It made him want to go on when he felt like dying. Between that, his sister, and now, Delylah and her family, it made him want to call North Carolina home again.

"How is Hannah?" Sarah's voice sounded genuinely concerned.

"She's at the hospital with Abel," he answered.

"I heard he woke up," Sarah replied. Victor's head snapped to attention.

"How did you-?" he began.

"Your father hears everything that goes on in that hospital," Sarah answered quickly. The pause of silence that came after was full of the truth Sarah couldn't say. _Jack Petty actually told me. Your father is laying right along with Lucius, on Da's property._ Victor heard her clear her throat. _Would you be proud of me, if you knew? Will you be proud, son? Will you love me again?_ Those were the only questions that kept her awake at night.

Victor released a sigh of annoyance. "So what do you need, Mom? You wanna see us, see Hannah and the baby?"

He knew the drill. Sarah only wanted to be conveniently open-there for the big events, detached for the difficult shit. Victor wondered how Hannah would react to their mother's call. Something wonderful happened over the summer-Hannah's backbone was now made of steel. She was almost ferociously protective over Abel. If anyone threatened Hannah's husband, she didn't hesitate to make her feelings known. Conversely, she readily let her guard down around Jax, Tara, the rest of the Tellers, and the members of SAMCRO. Anyone outside of that circle was dispensable. Victor was proud and worried for Hannah. He didn't know how long the new side of her would stick around, but he knew it was a product of the most horrific and hellish summer she'd experienced.

"I think I'm ready for it, if you are," Sarah answered. "That's why I am calling. I hear the Teller kids are getting better. Ophelia is holding her own, and Abel's gaining his strength back."

"Op is doing well, surprisingly," Victor said with a low laugh. "She's still pretty fragile. But Abel-since he's woken up, he's just been making leaps and bounds towards recovery."

"I think your sister has had a lot to do with that." Sarah's words were honest. Jack Petty had told her of Hannah's change in attitude. Apparently, James' beloved daughter had been changed by her capture and her subsequent release. She was closed off and refused to answer his questions, much to Sarah's relief and chagrin. Every bit of silence bought Sarah more time to figure out what the hell was going on, but it also bought Hannah more time to figure out exactly who her captors were. _I wonder if she and Opie have figured it all out._ Sarah knew if they hadn't, they would soon. Both girls were whip smart.

"She does," Victor agreed. "His doctors are amazed. I mean, he's young, so that's in his favor, but having Hannah and that little girl around has made all the difference."

"Little-what?" Sarah choked out. _Daughter?_ The word stabbed her in the heart. _It couldn't be a boy? Fiona gets a granddaughter too?_

"Hannah's having a little girl come winter," Victor said with a smile. He was excited-excited that his sister was alive, that Abel was alive, and that he was going to be an uncle. As the sun twinkled just slightly above the mountains, Victor felt hopeful for the first time since the summer began.

"A girl?" Sarah murmured. "I can't believe it."

The door opened, and Victor turned. Delylah crept through the opening. Clad in loose pajama bottoms and a tight tank top, she walked towards him, a cup of coffee in hand. Carefully, she walked towards him with a beautiful, sweet smile.

"I can't either," he said, as he eyed his beloved up and down. _So fucking beautiful._ She sat the coffee cup on the side table and stood next to him, wedging herself between his body and the porch posts. Her hair fell around her shoulders and tickled his bare chest. Victor closed his eyes and reveled in his close proximity. She was quite the distraction.

"Do you think I should pop in to the hospital?" Sarah asked, and Victor's attention was turned back to his mother.

"I think that's a bad idea," Victor stated. "Maybe you should wait? I mean, by week's end, Abel may even be home. I think it's better to keep your distance."

Sarah was silent again, but only for a moment. "I'll let you take the lead on this, son. You're around them every day; I'm not. You'll be able to feel them out-maybe talk to Hannah for me-soften the blow?"

Victor didn't miss the hope in his mother's voice. What he didn't realize is that the hope he'd heard was the falsest hope of all.

"I can try, Mom," he relented. "I'll keep you posted, okay?"

The minute Delylah heard the word _Mom,_ she pulled away. It was no secret that she detested Sarah. She thought it was completely absurd that Victor even entertained talking to his mother.

"I know you will," she returned. "Goodbye, son. I love you."

"Bye Mom," he replied and hung up the phone. His dark eyes met Delylah's. He wasn't surprised to see the fury that rested there.

"Really?" she queried. She folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"Don't, babe," he cajoled. "I only answered because I didn't want the ringing to wake you. She wanted to come to the hospital. I had to tell her something; otherwise, she would've showed up there."

"You're not actually considering asking if she can come here, are you?" Her blue eyes, eyes identical to Jax's, were narrowed and assessing.

"No." He spoke carefully. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do. Until he did, the less Delylah knew, the better. Sarah was the couple's only bone of contention. He didn't want her to worry about a woman that was barely there. "I don't want her here."

Delylah breathed a sigh of relief. _He's just telling her what she wants to hear._ She placed herself back in Victor's arms. It felt like the most natural place to be. As her face nuzzled the base of Victor's throat, she placed a gentle kiss on his Adam's Apple. Delylah smiled as he pulled her closer, and she reveled in the sensation of his hard abdomen pressed against her soft belly, as her heart thumped hard in response. Standing on tip-toe, she sweetly pressed her lips to his. To her surprise, the kiss didn't intensify; it stayed slow, careful, and languid. Spellbound, she leaned into him, amazed at how wonderful the sensation was.

They didn't hear the sliding door open, but they did hear the good natured groan that escaped Thomas' lips. Reluctantly breaking apart, both Delylah and Victor blushed as they met Delylah's older brother's eyes. Still in pajamas, his blonde hair disheveled, Thomas looked comical, but devastatingly handsome. He left the sliding door open, and Will followed, closing it behind him. They sat on the swing that hung from the porch's ceiling. Thomas draped a sweetly possessive arm across his beloved's shoulders. Will laid his head on Thomas' shoulder, and Delylah felt like her heart was going to explode. It was an amazing thing to see her older brother so happy.

"Mornin'," Will drawled sleepily. Delylah loved her brother's boyfriend. In the time that had passed, especially when Ophelia was gone, Will Latrie had become a close friend. His quiet, loving demeanor calmed and helped Delylah through her deepest fears. He was peaceful and protective, but he had a deep devotion to both Thomas and the Tellers, a devotion which Delylah noticed and greatly appreciated.

"Morning," Victor replied. Bending over, he grabbed and sipped at the cup of coffee Delylah had placed on the table. Lowering the cup, he pressed his lips together.

"Whatcha doing up so early?" Thomas asked. He knew that Delylah wasn't one to wake up at the crack of dawn. She was lucky some days to get up before noon.

"Victor's mother called, wanting to see if she could stop by the hospital to see Hannah and Victor," she said. Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance, but that passed quickly.

"I told you she isn't coming," Victor said low. "I won't let her. Not now."

"What about your dad?" Thomas asked. "Has he been to the hospital? Has he reached out at all? To you? To Hannah?"

Victor shook his head in the negative, but remained silent. His jaw was tight. He stared out at the Appalachian horizon. Thomas could see how agitated he was, even if Delylah couldn't quite see it. James and Sarah were fucking weird; there was no question about it, but to not see your kids in their greatest time of need was a foreign concept to Thomas. Even though Jax and Tara had basically lied about their identities throughout the children's entire life, Thomas knew that, at the end of the day, Jax and Tara would die protecting any one of their kids. James and Sarah Sinclair couldn't say that.

"Which is why I don't want her anywhere near us," Delylah chimed in.

"Can you drop it, please?" Victor asked. His voice was low and the words came through clenched teeth. "I told you she wouldn't be here."

"I just want to make sure, okay?" Delylah fired back. "I know that you have a soft spot for her-"

"That went away at Hannah's wedding," Victor finished. "It went away the minute she walked out on my sister. It went away the minute she let James keep doing what he's always done-pick me apart and hurt me, in front you and your entire family. The conversation this morning was only to pacify her, to keep her at bay until your family can heal, until Opie and Hannah can give the cops the information they need. Everyone is fragile right now, Lala. I fucking get it, okay?"

"Do you?" Delylah was fired up now. Will's eyes widened.

"Why are you going in on-" Will began, but Victor jumped in before he could finish.

"I do," Victor seethed. "I get that you hate her. I get that the whole fucking family hates her, okay?! But I also see how wonderful your family has been to me, and I wouldn't endanger you or them by having them here! If nothing else, I am a man of my word. It's fucked up that you question my honor."

"Honor has nothing to do with your DNA," Delylah said. She wasn't yelling. "You wouldn't have snuck out of our bed to talk to her if you were dead set against her coming, you would've let the call go to fucking voicemail."

Victor said nothing. His lips were drawn tight, and his dark eyes were ominous.

"Delylah, stop," Thomas spoke up.

"You're hurting him, Lala," Will stated.

Looking at her lover, she knew it was true. His eyes were dry, but his clenched fists and stiff body spoke volumes. Without speaking or even acknowledging any of them, Victor pivoted on his heel and walked back into the house. Delylah went to follow him, but Will stood and stopped her.

"Hell, no _ma belle fille_." The Creole slipped from Will's mouth every now and then. "You need to leave Victor alone. You go up there now, and you'll be rattling a hornets' nest. Let him chill, let him relax, let him be."

"But-" she resisted Will at first, but his gentle means of interjection stopped her.

" _Non, fille douce. Vous devez laisser le bien_ ," he murmured. Delylah gazed at him, confused.

"Leave it alone," Thomas quipped. "He's telling you to leave it alone, Delylah. Let Victor have his moment. If you go up there now, it may be explosive. You don't want that. Let him be, Sister. Please."

Delylah was immediately contrite. She knew that Victor spoke the truth, but it was hard to believe it. She had such a strong connection to Tara, she couldn't imagine not trying to love her. She couldn't imagine _not_ having her there. In a strange way, Delylah wasn't looking to win; she was looking to see if there was even a piece of Victor that still felt like a son should have felt about a mother. When she didn't get the answer she expected, she pushed, and it was the wrong thing to do.

"What's going on?" a voice came from the door. Victor had left it open. Will and Delylah turned to see Venus now standing in the doorway. Already dressed for the day, Venus was stunning, as always. Today, she was dressed in a soft, tea-length cotton dress. It was sky blue, and it highlighted her deep tan and honeyed locks. She smiled brilliantly as she stepped out onto the porch, but smile faded once she saw the sadness in Delylah's expression.

"What's wrong, Delylah?" she asked. Stepping forward, she brushed a strand of dark hair from her face.

"I pissed Victor off," she said bluntly. "I talked about his mama."

Delylah grimaced. "Where is he now?"

"Upstairs, angry."

"Well, he needs to get downstairs," Venus said with another gorgeous smile. Delylah was confused. _Why is she smiling? How could anyone be so happy at seven in the morning?_

"What's going on?" Will asked. "Everything okay?"

"It's wonderful," Venus said, her molasses drawl more than a little excited. "Alex-I mean-Tig-he just called. They're letting Abel _and_ Ophelia come home today." Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, careful to keep her carefully drawn face intact.

Thomas stood abruptly, a megawatt grin on his face. He intertwined with Will and reached out for Delylah's hand.

"You're serious, Venus?" Thomas asked. "Really?"

"I am. The doctors think Abel is recovering beautifully. Ophelia is still regaining some of her strength, but she's bouncing back faster than before, thanks for Abel crushing his recovery. Everyone thinks Ophelia will do better at home, so-she's coming home! Today! We'll-" Venus paused for a moment and caught her breath. "We'll finally be all together. After all this time." Her lips trembled as she tried not to cry. "I just can't believe it."

"We can't either," Thomas breathed. His mind was drifting in a thousand different directions. He was worried for Ophelia, but he rejoiced for his brother. Soon, they would be together, and maybe they could just round the summer out in peace. Before his brain could settle on that idea, the gnawing, untied ends attacked again: _there will never be peace until we know what the fuck happened._ The thought made his blood run cold. _Maybe being together shouldn't be an ongoing thing. Maybe-_

"Oh, I must look a mess," Venus said with a laugh, interrupting Thomas' thoughts. "I'm gonna run in and fix my face. Lala, go upstairs and apologize to that man of yours and get ready. Y'all think you can get your shit together in a hurry, so we can all drive over together?"

The boys nodded in agreement, and Delylah nodded as well, and within minutes, they went their separate ways. Thomas and Will got to their room first.

"I can't believe this is happening," Thomas whispered. "I mean-I really can't."

Will paused for a moment and drew Thomas into a gentle embrace. Thomas wrapped his arms around Will's waist and just sobbed. For a few moments, he let his guard down and wept. The last few months had been complete and utter hell, and now, almost magically, everything was working out.

"It's too good to be true," he sobbed. "It's not going to last."

" _Il ne neut pas durer. Tout ce quit importe est que profitez de la bonne et de prendre le mauvais comme il vient."_

"It may not last. All that matters is that you take advantage of the good and take the bad as it comes," Thomas repeated in English.

"Grandmere Bette said that to me all the time," Will said softly.

"She spoke the truth," Thomas said in return. "She was a wise woman."

"She was," Will said as he gently pulled away from Thomas. "C'mon babe. Let's get ready. We have a lot of celebrating to do."

Just two rooms down, Delylah Teller stood alone in her bedroom. By the time she climbed the steps and entered, she walked into her room to find it empty. Victor was gone. To her relief, his clothes were still there, so he hadn't completely left, but Delylah had no idea how he snuck out of the cabin without anyone hearing him. Staring blankly into the space, she spied a folded piece of paper on the bedside table:

 _I'm not mad anymore, just hurt. I just need to clear my mind. I have my phone. Just need some space._

 _I'll come home when I feel better. I won't be long, but you have to trust me. If you need me, I'll be there._

 _Always. I promise._

Delylah, heartbroken, crumpled the paper in her hands. As she looked in the mirror, she hated what she saw. Once again, her mouth had gotten her into trouble, and it may have cost her someone she loved. For the first time ever, she realized just how much she loved Victor Sinclair. Losing him would be a fate worse than death. Leaning over the dresser, she breathed deeply.

"He just needs his space for a little bit," she said aloud. "If I need him, I can call him." She looked in the mirror. "I'll let him have it. Right now, I have to focus on the family. I mean, that's all I really have—"

A knock rang out in the silence.

"Delylah? Everything okay?" Venus' voice sank through the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Delylah said. "I'll be out in a bit."

She hoped Venus would believe the lie. Because Delylah wasn't anywhere close to fine. She was panicked. She was scared. She was hurt and confused and upset with herself, and what bothered her more than anything was that she knew that deep down Victor felt exactly the same way-and he had the option to stay away. Forever, if he chose.


End file.
